


The Ocean Is Big and Blue

by bakane



Series: The Next Chapter [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Gunshot Wounds, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 20:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17608529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakane/pseuds/bakane
Summary: "Do you know what being a pirate is all about, Lieutenant Belladonna?" Yang's eyes gleamed, bright and intense, with no shadow of a doubt as they stared into hers. "Freedom."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone else is going somewhere  
> They're going nowhere,  
> and I'll be there too  
> I might as well go under with you.  
> I wanna sink to the bottom with you  
> I wanna sink to the bottom with you  
> The ocean is big and blue  
> I just wanna sink to the bottom with you.
> 
> -Sink to the Bottom by Fountains of Wayne

The sea remained calm and tranquil, the kind of silence that came only on an early spring morning. A young woman stood on the deck, listening to the wildly soothing waves of the ocean, breathing in the scent of fish and musty salt. Just like any other day, Blake Belladonna sat out at the forepeak, resting under the gigantic flag of the Marine Force. It would be a short while until the rest of the crew awoke, their shrill captain usually being the first to stir. By then, it would be impossible to shirk her duties for any longer.

Blake had never been much of an early riser when she was younger. She's always been fonder of sunset, and the pale light that came with the moon at night. Yet, out here on the waters, everything felt different. The air of twilight felt special, much too alluring to ignore.

It was still an early start to the season, and the wind grew abnormally chilly out on the ocean. The breeze stroked her hair, traveling rather lifelessly compared to the churning waves. She burrowed into the front of her jacket, digging out a small flask from her hidden waist pocket. Popping open the lid, she took one well-deserved swig. The pungent taste of alcohol stung the tip of her nose and burned through the rest of her throat, leaving behind a fiery wave of vanilla, cream, and nutty caramel. Blake shuddered in odd satisfaction, swallowing away the bittersweet aftermath residing on her tongue.

"Drinking again, Belladonna?" A disapproving voice asked her from behind. There was the echoing sound of shoes, clanking against the wooden floorboard. A figure emerged, standing a foot away from her side. "I was hoping this wouldn't become another charming habit of yours."

Feigning ignorance, Blake took another short sip, knowing all too well who the shadow belonged to. There were very few people on board who would be rude enough to interrupt her moment of privacy.

"Captain," she acknowledged the girl without much sincerity, staring up at the pair of cold sky blue eyes. Weiss Schnee appeared before her, seeming entirely unapologetic.

"You don't need to call me that when we're alone, you know," said Weiss sharply. "I thought I made myself clear the last time we had this conversation."

"My apologies, princess," Blake smirked, dropping the formalities at once to meet a familiar face. "I forgot how much you preferred old names over the new."

"I would prefer it if you didn't mock me either." Weiss frowned, sensing that something was off with the woman before her. "And might I ask what business you have with that bottle in your hands? Is something on your mind?"

"Whatever do you mean by that?" Blake wore a harmlessly innocent smile.

"Well, it's not uncommon to see you off brooding on your own like this. That's probably something you've excelled at since birth," Weiss said with a wry smile. "But I know for a fact that you've never been much of a drinker before. And you see, Belladonna, when I recommended you as the best candidate for this job, I didn't think you would be spending half your time in a state of near inebriation."

"Is it just me or do I detect a hint of concern?" Blake countered in turn, grinning softly as she teased. "Please forgive me. I didn't realize I was the subject of your dear attention for so long."

Weiss huffed, making an incomprehensible noise of grand annoyance. "Yes, so what if I am concerned? As the definitive Captain of this ship, I believe I have the right to know what's troubling my second in command. Don't you?"

"Nothing's wrong. I simply wanted to watch the sunrise in peace." Blake tried hard not to add in the word "silence" at the end. That would encourage the very opposite effect of what she desired. Instead, she offered Weiss her flask, hoping to lighten the mood with proper social decorum – the Weiss Schnee way of dealing with awkward matters. "Would you like to join me? I have plenty left to share."

"I should think not!" Weiss declined almost at once, pressing her lips together in outright disdain. "Frankly speaking, I think at least one of us should be sober for the rest of our voyage."

"It's never hindered my judgment before," went on Blake at the degrading exaggeration. "You must trust me enough to know that."

"Perhaps it's been that way for now." Weiss's lips curled into a tiny, misshapen frown. "But I hope you will never betray me of that trust,  _Lieutenant_  Belladonna."

"If I may recall," muttered Blake, sounding more bitter than she meant to do so. "I never asked to be given this position in the first place."

"I beg your pardon?" Weiss frowned in confusion, thankfully doubting the clarity of her own ears.

"I said that your hair looks lovely today, Captain."

Weiss blinked, unsure if she were kidding or not. Rolling her eyes, Blake returned to her drink, bringing the flask back up to her dry lips.

Soon enough, the burning smell reached Weiss's nostril, and she recoiled, wrinkling her face in immediate disgust. "And what vile concoction are you even drinking?"

"Rum," she replied quietly.

"Rum?" Weiss repeated the term in shock. Then, she proceeded to glower down at her, crossing her arms into a tight, impressive knot. "That's just pirate's swill."

"I suppose so." It was, indeed, a very cheap form of smuggled alcohol. Blake had already foreseen what Weiss would say at the sight of it. She let out a small snort of defiance. "I bear the fault this time, Captain. Sometimes I forget how you're from a much higher social standing than I am."

"It's not a matter of class," Weiss shot back. "It's a matter of refined taste."

"Of course," she agreed automatically, not eager to pick a fight. Blake looked out at the sea, a much more tempting alternative than dealing with an angry Schnee. The sun was finally beginning to ascend, the water and sky being seasoned with multifarious flecks of scarlet and gold. It was a mesmerizing sight – one that couldn't be easily forgotten as if the entire horizon had been set ablaze.

"It's a beautiful sunrise," Blake remarked without a second thought.

"I agree," Weiss said shortly, wearing an almost undetectable smile. "At least we can settle upon that."

"Can we?" Blake retorted, sounding evidently amused. "I was beginning to think that this was impossible."

Weiss's lips curled up at again, and they exchanged a momentary glance of mirth. It was cut short though, as her captain cleared her throat, interrupting the event in that moderately cool tone of hers. "Now, if you're done trying to spoil your mind and body, why don't you go make yourself useful and look over our current coordinates?"

"Sure." With a sigh, Blake jumped onto her feet, stashing the flask back into the front of her uniform. "I'll go check on our navigator."

"Please, go ahead." Weiss audibly groaned. "The general specifically asked for these shipments to be delivered as soon as possible. I can't afford another month of delay."

Blake left her with a short nod. Walking across the sturdy floorboard, she surveyed the elevated quarterdeck. There was a tall, well-shaped man slouching on a stool; he had sapphire blue hair and a trail of drool hanging off the corner of his mouth.

"Neptune." As usual, she didn't find any guilt in disturbing his beauty sleep. "Neptune?"

There was an abrupt snort, and the young man bounced a centimeter off from his seat.

"Hmm?" Neptune mumbled as he struggled to find his bearings, his eyes still remaining quite droopy. "What? I'm awake... I wasn't sleeping on the job... I'm not afraid of the ocean…"

"I wasn't trying to scare you," Blake smirked as she watched his fumbling figure. "The captain just wanted to make sure we were on the right course."

"Oh. Um… Yeah!" Neptune jolted forward, neck straightening, his spine stiffening at the mention of their boss.

"We're right on schedule, yeah, of course!" Chuckling nervously, he glanced out towards the water. He turned from left to right, possibly checking the position of the wind and the horizon. "We're just, uh… Uh-oh."

With ears as bright as a fox, Weiss made sure his words were well-received.

"Uh-oh?" she echoed his words, stomping up the stairs to confront this matter at once. Her heeled boots tapped against the wood, resonating a terrifying rhythm that made her subordinates flinch. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Um… Sorry, Captain. But do you see what I see?" Neptune pointed at something up ahead in the distance, squinting in rising concern.

Mirroring the frown, Blake paced back to the boat's beak, stretching her neck overboard, peering out towards the direction of the wind.

Riding the current, a large shadow was fast approaching, rapidly moving from the northern route. It came with little to no sound, with not so much as a subtle warning. All it sported was a massive black flag – with a white skeletal face painted on the center of it.

"Pirates!" Weiss stole her line. Racing back down onto the common ground, she rang the cacophonous alarm. "All hands on deck!"

"Come on everybody, get your lazy asses out of bed now!" Neptune shouted along with her, readjusting his gloves as he yelled across the ship, attempting to shake the awake the crew with his obnoxiously loud voice. "It's showtime!"

There was the thunderous rush of footsteps, and soon the other mates were filing out of the hatch. A flurry of white and blue navy robes filled the ship.

"Prepare to ready about!" came an urgent command. A loud silence followed, with everyone running, hauling and tightening the ropes. Neptune's expression turned solemn for once, clutching onto the wheel as he waited for their captain's next orders.

"We have to turn the ship around," Weiss thought aloud. For a short moment, she glanced over her shoulder, waiting for Blake's instant support. Instead, Blake frowned, shaking her head in calm dissent.

"There's not enough time. We're down on the opposite side of the wind," Blake explained shortly. "They're coming in too fast."

"If we act now, we can still make it," argued Weiss.

"And then what?" Blake countered. "At this rate, we'll be set off course for another week! Are you sure you're okay with taking that risk?"

Neptune raised an eyebrow, glancing back and forth between them as he observed the fight. "Come on, Captain! We can take these guys on with our eyes closed."

Weiss glared up at him, breathing in and out to keep composure. "Is fighting always the solution with you two?"

Neptune answered her with a wide encouraging grin. "Only when it's necessary."

Weiss let out a short huff, then stepped onto the quarterdeck, readying herself on the highest platform. Blake lingered below in mild amusement, watching as their captain huffed and puffed, conflicted between her limited options. It was as if Weiss were tempted by the latter choice but simply didn't want to be proven wrong. Eventually, though, a decision had to be made.

"Keep us going steady," she resolved, and the ship was immediately engulfed by a still tension. Neptune nodded and held his ground.

"All right, everybody to your positions! Arm yourselves!" Blake reached into her side pocket, pulling out a golden Flintlock pistol. Keeping calm, she reloaded her weapon, facing the enemy ship that was drawing in nearer, closer and closer like a nightmarish predator.

 

* * *

 

Leaning far out over the rail, Blake Belladonna waited. There was a shroud of mysterious mist, suddenly engulfing them from the surface, and by a series of several short minutes, their vision hazed away into the drizzly fog.

"They're close," whispered Weiss from her left. "I can feel it."

There was the familiar creaking of wood and the clattering of water along the sides. Blake narrowed her eyes, out towards the unknown, seeing a small creature emerging from above. Her fingers twitched into a firing motion, before seeing the gull; it skimmed above the water and passed by the stern. Distracted, Blake watched its last movements, absently admiring the way it comfortably flew into high altitude, before vanishing completely into the clouds.

Another chilling breeze took over.

Three distinct booms shook the deck underneath her boots. Was that them? She wondered, peering over the rail to port, but she saw no smoke or splashes. When she spun around towards their captain, Weiss had been utterly calm, alerting her that the cannons fired had been their own.

They had just swerved east, closely hauling next to the steady wind, ready to continue around on the port side once the deed was done. Blake clenched the handle of her weapon, her anxiety mounting within seconds.

Then, with the blasting of an ugly horn, dozens of shadows were upon them.

"Charge!" A female voice boomed across the sea.

It came, with a downpour of men, each of them flying with ropes tied to their waists. They hovered above with the sails and descended onto their ship like a flock of unwanted flies.

And by it, the battle had been properly commenced. Several sailors scrambled up the ladder in alarm. Gunshots echoed throughout the still waters, and on the quarterdeck below, way up by the forecastle ladder, Blake could hear her captain's shouts and the sound of a metal blade being slipped out of its sheath.

Shooting down a pirate to her right, Blake edged around the stern, hurrying down to assist her fellowmen.

Amidst the chaos, one last shadow loomed overhead. Playing on basic instinct, Blake whipped around, aiming to shoot straight at its stomach, when she realized that the creature was falling, much quicker than its predecessors, and with much more…drool than normal.

"It's..." Blake lowered her gun. "A dog?"

As if he knew exactly where to be, the small canine dropped right onto the center of the deck, right into Weiss Schnee's unsuspecting arms.

"Who in their right minds would keep a mutt aboard their ship?!" Weiss shrieked, squirming to throw the happily panting dog off her chest. "Don't just stand there, Vasilias! Do something! Get this wretched pup off of me!"

It was a scene too good to be seen by herself, and Blake was unlucky enough to miss her opportunity to laugh. Feeling sorry for Weiss (and fearing retribution), she was almost ready to pry the dog away when her eyes caught onto something in the distance.

It was small, almost even inconceivable at first.

However, there was a minor difference: the door to the cellar had been left open.

"You stay here and assist the captain," Blake hastened to say, raising her guards. "I have to take care of something."

"Take care of what?" Neptune blinked in utter confusion. And before another question could be hollered out of his throat, she was already back on her feet. "Wait- Don't leave me here alone with her!"

Quick to draw on a decision, Blake didn't so much as consider her next move as she raced into the darkened basements. Heart racing with adrenaline, she hid behind a wall, watching from the corner of every turn as she advanced. Soon, she had reached the last segment of the cellar. Despite finding nothing of suspicion, she did not lower her weapon, knowing quite well what sort of sorcery her opponent was capable of.

The door closed. So quietly that it amounted to nothing but a tiny snap of air, and that was the strangeness of it, how a small sound like that could induce the kind of surreal silence into a dimly lit room. For now, the world stood still, and gave Blake the vaguest illusion, as though the battle unfolding above the deck had disappeared into absolute oblivion.

"You know, we really have to stop meeting like this," said a coy voice.

"I agree." Wearing a cocky grin, Blake made the first move.

Pinning her down with her knees, Blake smirked, pointing the glistening gun down at the pirate's unguarded throat. She recognized the shadow from the wanted posters. How could she not when she had hair, golden as the blazing sun outside.

"Perhaps this will teach you to stop stealing from the kingdom's navy, Captain Yang Xiao Long?"

It was not so much a question as a reminder.

Instead of struggling, Yang returned the gesture with an even wider grin.

"Oh, I don't know," Yang breathed happily, acting as though her head wasn't about to be blown up to a thousand pieces. "I think I've grown a bit used to our secret meetings, don't you think?"

There was a titillating pressure, a sleek touch itching up her inner thigh. Blake yelped in confusion, and in a split second, her body had been upturned and thrown down, her head smashing into the wood as she dizzily stared up at her enemy's lilac eyes.

Blake was now, uncomfortably, sprawled on her back, with both two hands immobilized by a tight, python-like grip. A notoriously flirtatious pirate lay on top of her, pinning her down by the stomach, their legs tangled in intimate proximity.

"And you see, I've never been a stickler for change," she spoke again, and the cards quickly turned against her favor. "What do you think about that? Lieutenant Belladonna?"

"I think…" Blake couldn't help but feel a wave of heat rising deep within her chest. "I think you're toying with me."

"Maybe. But you government dogs aren't very fun to play with when you're all tensed up like that," Yang whispered, her voice managing to reach surfaces that laid deeply underneath her skin.

"Get off of me!"

"Although, I have to admit…" Yang seemed to be mocking her. "You do have a fiery side."

Then Yang laughed effortlessly, finding her own joke much more amusing than others would. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're absolutely terrible at foreplay?"

Her breaths felt a violent hitch at the question, collapsing onto themselves and back into her lungs.

"Maybe you'd like a few pointers?" Yang leaned in, her pupils transforming into slits of dangerous passions. Blake winced, hesitant to find out if this part was also part of the pirate's shameful deceits.

There was the smell of coconut and citrus, prickling the tip of her nose, alluring enough to elicit an embarrassing moan. Holding her breath, Blake chose to deprive herself of air, and of that maddening scent, knowing that she would be far better off without both in her current predicament.

"Oh relax,  _Lieutenant_ ," Yang whispered, leaning in, her breath tickling the edge of her neck. "It's not like I'm ever going to hurt you."

"I think you need to make up your mind,  _Captain_ ," Blake hissed, keeping her eyes open in livid defiance. "Either kill me or release me."

"And if I do release you?" For this turn of wordplay, to Blake's relief, her threat had held more strength than before. Yang retracted a short inch, taking an untimely break to pause and frown. "What happens to me then?"

"Simple. I would have you and all of your bloody men arrested." Blake seethed, unsure where her sudden confidence was stemming from. "And then we'll hold a trial for you at the Royal Court regarding your recent criminal activities."

"Hmm. Well, doesn't that sound interesting?" Yang hummed, screwing up her face in tempted concentration like she was earnestly considering this option.

"But I don't think that plan bodes too well for me and my friends," decided Yang with an idle grin. "I mean, how fair of a trial do you think we would receive at the hands of your backward aristocrats?"

"I don't think my superiors would be very pleased," said Blake coldly, "being called backward by a rootless vagrant such as yourself."

"Do you defend them?" For a short moment, she frowned.

"As if they would have any need for my spare thoughts," snapped Blake.

"Ah-ha!" Yang dared to laugh, catching the poorly concealed disdain at the end of her last word. "I think I heard a bit of anger coming from you there, lieutenant. I'm beginning to think that you and I shouldn't be fighting on opposite sides."

"I would never sink low enough to become a pirate," growled Blake, crossed by the very idea she presented. "I would never join your colorful crew of thieves, murderers, and rapists."

The pressure around her wrists had instantly turned to stone.

"Unhand me, you-"

"Watch it," the pirate warned, leaving no remnants of her previous humor behind. Blake winced at her sudden murderous glare.

"Watch what you have to say about my friends," snarled Yang, her expression dimming as it moved out of the light. "Otherwise our little session here might end up seeing a lot more blood than it should."

Blake couldn't help but shiver at that.

"You've got a big sense of loyalty for a pirate," she braved herself to say, straining to keep a weak smile afloat.

"Loyalty is all we pirates have to give." Her eyes flickered, demonstrating a slightly less intimidating glimmer. "And who exactly are  _your_  friends, lieutenant?"

"…My friends?"

"Who is it that you fight for? Is it for yourself, or for somebody else?" Blake hated this, she absolutely hated feeling this incompetent, believing that this vagabond blonde lying on top of her held the answers to every closed book in the universe.

"I don't understand," she spat.

"You don't belong with them." Yang's voice turned almost pleading, urgent and strong. "You're the girl who fell in love with the sea. You want to venture the world. You seek out adventure and liberty."

"But here you are, wasting away your life under the orders of these dirty noblemen who've never had to work for a day in their lives!" Yang drew herself up to her full height and stared her down. The accusation cut at her like a sharpened dagger. "You work as a hound for the royal bloodline, the people who care nothing for the starving and the poor. I thought you're supposed to be the soldier of justice. But how come you're the one who's lost all your sense of morals?"

"I don't care about what I do as long as I am at sea." Blake averted her gaze, ignoring the invisible squeeze closing around her heart. "And what do you know of this matter? You are nothing but a petty thief, and yet you act as if you know me."

"You're wrong again." Yang wiggled a finger at her. "I'm not just a petty thief. I'm a pirate."

"How on earth could you say that with so much conviction and honor?"

"Do you know what being a pirate is all about, Lieutenant Belladonna?" Yang's eyes gleamed, bright and intense, with no shadow of a doubt as they stared into hers. "Freedom."

Freedom, she repeated the word in her mind. A part of Blake had said the actual word, and a part of her had been listening to herself say it, deliberating over how she never belonged inside of it.

"You're not like them." Yang fought for her to understand. "How hard was it for you to escape that little island of slave owners? How difficult was it to earn your ticket out of a lifelong sentence of imprisonment? What good was doing all of that if you're willing to sell out your skills and values for these scumbags?"

"How…" Blake gasped, as even the smallest pockets of air in her bones turned to ice, and she felt a dreadful numbing sensation spread throughout the rest of her body. "How is it that you know all of this?"

"Because I know you, Blake." Another shudder. She had never known her name could be spoken in such a way, with such a careful amount of faith and love, of obsession and nostalgia. The name evoked a memory, which slipped and sloshed within her grasps. It began spilling out like a puddle of water she could only helplessly carry in her hands.

Most of it escaped from her. She focused on the remaining droplets: on her palm, on her fingers, on her fingernails. They were little beads of sweat and pain, each bringing forth a maddening sensation of grief.

Yet above them all, like an omnipotent presence, there had been an origin of warmth that engulfed her. It came to her, clad in a hopeful hue of lavender leaves, of ripe plums, the color of purple.

The color of her captor's two unblinking eyes – Had they always been this soothing?

"We've… We've met before." She was both too afraid and excited to inquire any further. "Haven't we?"

This time, Yang did not answer her.

"Don't play the servant, Blake," she instead said softly. "It doesn't suit you."

 

* * *

 

_"Are you okay?"_

_The young slave tightened her eyes, squeezing them shut in reply. If she ignored the voice, the stranger would go away. They always have, they always will._

_"You look like you haven't eaten in days," said the same, terribly concerned, tone. "Here. You can have some of mine."_

_There was the rustling sound of crust and bread crumbs. Then the warm, sour smell of wheat stung the end of her nose. The scent of it felt so unfamiliar, for a second she hardly recognized it to be real food._

_"Eat it! Trust me, you'll feel a lot better."_

_She had to open them now. Not with such a damning temptation standing inches from her throat. She let go, allowing her dull amber eyes to emerge. Her blurry vision eventually cleared, revealing a girl of her age, slightly taller with puffy baby cheeks and freckles. The stranger was smiling brightly at her, a half-eaten loaf of bread still in her hands. Her hair was the exact same color as the morning sun._

_"You don't have to be so scared of me," the girl told her offhandedly. She lifted up the pastry and took a small nibble from the right corner. "See? Not poisoned. Munch, munch, much. It's good, okay? Trust me."_

_There it was again, the word "trust."_

_With unease, and scarce faith, the slave outstretched her hands, remembering not to seem too eager in case the offer had been a cruel joke._

_To her greatest surprise, it was not at all like she had dreaded. The loaf of bread dropped into the gaps of her opened hands, and the girl carried on as if nothing even remotely extraordinary had happened. The slave cradled the bread in her fingers, treating it like gold as she dared to place it beneath her teeth._

_"So?" The girl began to ask. "What's your name?"_

_"_ _…I don't have one," the slave answered between a few muffled chews._

_"What?" There was a small snort of disbelief. "Everyone's got a name."_

_"Not everyone," she whispered back. "A slave has no use for a name."_

_"A slave?" It took longer than usual, but the girl seemed to finally notice her chains on the ground. The rusted silver sickles were very clearly shackled around her ankles, still locked and still visible underneath the present moonlight._

_"Oh." The girl's voice dropped an octave. "Sorry_ _… I didn't realize…"_

_"They don't call me anything. I don't live with my family anymore. I don't have a name." Words poured out of her, like a cascading waterfall, and with them, they brought a fresh trail of tears across her cheeks. The burning tears dribbled off, cleansing the dirt from the bruises._

_"I'm sorry!" The girl apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to upset you, honest! I was just- I was being nosy, that's all. I'm always getting into trouble for that... Please, don't cry because of me."_

_The tiny blonde stayed firmly rooted to the spot, tugging anxiously on her two pigtails, glimpsing between the wall and the ground, appearing as though she still had something left to say. The slave flinched as the girl came closer, unused to sharing such a proximity without violence._

_"Well... What did they used to call you before you were sent here?" The blonde tried again quietly, with a little more tact than before._

_"_ _…Belladonna," she replied after a long injured sniff. "My family's name was Belladonna."_

_"Belladonna." The girl nodded, meeting the other with an embracing smile. "That's a nice name. It's very pretty."_

_She had meant to murmur out a "thank you," but it didn't feel sincere enough to say. Silence overtook them once more as the slave chose to stay mute._

_"How about Blake?"_

_It took a moment for her to realize that the girl had spoken. The sentence from before had been whispered quite delicately, almost like a lullaby to her tired, beaten ears._

_"What?"_

_"How do you like the name Blake?" The blonde asked with more keenness. "Don't you think it suits you? Blake Belladonna. It sounds cool. It definitely sounds like a name I would never forget."_

_"_ _…I don't like it."_

_"Oh." The girl stood awkwardly, her shoulders sagging in visible disappointment. "Well, why not? What's wrong with it?"_

_"I know that name. It means black," she answered with a frightened demeanor. "I don't like the color black. It comes with the night. And I'm always alone at night."_

_"You're never alone in this world!" The girl said at once. "When it's the day, there's the sun, and when it's time to sleep, there's the moon!"_

_The girl in chains frowned at those words, words that held no special meaning in her empty language. "You can keep that name. I don't need it. I don't want it."_

_"_ _…I still like it," said the girl stubbornly, sounding like her pride had been somewhat damaged. "I'm calling you Blake no matter what and you don't get to have a say in it at all."_

_"But it's my name..."_

_"I thought you didn't have a name?" The girl stuck out her tongue in response. "See how important something becomes once you realize how much you want it?"_

_"You don't make any sense," she grunted, burrowing her head back into her arms. "Thank you for the bread. But you should leave now, before they catch you and I get into more trouble."_

_"Aw_ _…" The girl pouted. "I don't think you really mean that."_

_"How do you know what I really want?"_

_"_ _…I don't really," sighed the girl. Then came another moment of silence. The last several lamps turned off from the alleyways, and the girl sighed as she walked away. She took exactly two steps down the crooked stairs, then glanced behind her, and then took another step in silence. The slave watched in return, feeling the coldness of the evening air grow worse as the stranger left._

_"I want to be free."_

_A confession finally unleashed itself. The admission broke out, purging through the darkness. Though muffled by quivers of fear, it was pure and raw of the desire she harbored so closely to her own dying heart. "I want to leave this island and I want to travel the seven seas. I want to see the world. I don't ever want to come back here. I don't ever want to be living in chains."_

_The girl stopped in her tracks, and for a moment, the slave expected her to carry on her way, having finally heard enough. But then her heart did another double take; the girl whirled around, catching her out of breath, wearing an expression of such beautiful optimism._

_"You can!"_

_She closed their distance again, and warm hands folded down on top of hers, squeezing them until she could feel her pulse._

_"I promise," she heard the girl declare, without a taint of doubt in her face. "When I'm older, and I'm strong enough to fight. I promise, I'll fight for your freedom!"_

_It was the same smile as before._

_"Wait for me, Blake Belladonna!"_

_It was warm._

_"I will come for you."_

_It was warm enough to burn._


	2. Chapter 2

_"We've_ _… We've met before." She was both too afraid and excited to ask. "Haven't we?"_

_The pirate did not answer her._

_"Don't play the servant, Belladonna," she instead said softly. "It's not worth it."_

_Her lilac gaze drifted downwards, and her lips curled into a devilish smile. The pirate drew in, humming idly as she dropped closer, but never, not ever, breaking contact with her eyes._

_She shifted her weight onto her right arm and with her other hand, reached out her fingers, caressing her cheek in long-awaited tenderness. Her freckles were close enough to count; Blake could feel the warmth of her breathing down._ _She felt a kiss to the corner of her lips and felt lost, giving up the will to fight or struggle. She was hers, and hers alone. Yang moved, sliding down along her jaw, trailing dangerously towards her ear. She pressed against her hair, somehow slipping deep underneath her skin._

_"Goodbye, Blake."_

_Yang smiled, not wavering as she faded away into the dark._

_The pirate left before there was a chance to speak._

_"No," she would have said. "Stay."_

 

* * *

 

Blake gasped, waking up in sweats as the blankets slid down from her bare knees. Her cheeks were soaked in red, and her entire body continued to tingle, practically aching in sore, hot embarrassment. The window outside was dark and foggy. The clock ticked. There was still an hour or so left until daybreak.

Good lord, she groaned, attempting to even her breaths as she fought to forget the dream. Clambering out of the cot, she poured herself a cup of water to quench her thirst. She drained it all in one gulp, and then pressed the empty glass surface onto her forehead, trying to cool herself of the sudden heat.

"This is not natural," Blake scolded herself. She was an adult. There was such a thing as self-control. Blake shook her head, in physical denial at the lingering thoughts of passion. That _incident_ had happened weeks ago. It should do little to disturb her sleep now. Especially not in such a fiery, sensational, tantalizingly arousing-

Bang!

Blake jumped back in alarm. The sudden noise came from beyond her cabin's door. There had been the short ringing of wind-chimes, and she could hear several angry murmurs coming from the front desk of the inn. Blake stayed in one spot, wondering who on earth would be desperate enough to find a room this early into the morning.

Her ears pointed up, listening to the march of footsteps. Then... Somebody was knocking at her door.

Blake paused, unsure if she should answer or pretend to be asleep. In the end, she had no time to decide as the door swung open on its own accord. Amber eyes widened, pupils, dilating at the frightening sight.

A fuming Weiss Schnee stood right outside her door.

"What is the meaning of this?" Not bothering to wait for an invitation, the girl stormed inside the minuscule room. In her hands, she held a single letter, its black seal having been ripped open in half.

"It's my letter of resignation," said Blake, battling with calmness as she recognized the note at once.

"I can read that for myself," her former captain snapped.

"Then what is it that you're troubled about?"

"Really? Does it look like I'm in the mood for another pointless banter?" Weiss breathed heavily. In truth, she looked the very definition of terrifying. Thankfully, her fits of ire and rage were things Blake had grown exceptionally used to.

"…No." She didn't respond any further than that, believing another witty answer would be pushing her luck too far. "I suppose not."

"I can't even begin to understand your reasoning behind this, not even for a brief second," growled Weiss. "So why don't you help me better comprehend the current situation?"

She didn't wait around for a nod of consent.

"I stepped into my office this morning, and I found  _this_  lying on top of my desk." Weiss held the note up in indignation. "When I went to your quarters in order to discuss this issue with you, there was nobody at the door. The landlady informed me that you've already packed up your bags and left. Gone! Disappeared at the crack of dawn!"

Blake fidgeted in her seat, recalling the burdensome weight of her trunk, which stood directly next to her boots.

"Am I expected to simply accept this notice without a plausible explanation?" Eyebrows lifted, Weiss brought down a penetrating blue gaze, continuing to speak at her own speedy pace. "I shall not accept this as a fact. No, I need a proper reason. Give it to me now or I will be tearing this apart with my own two hands."

The same letter appeared before her again, this time with its envelope torn off; Blake could see her own neat handwriting scribbled along the lines of the yellow parchment, and from the sight of her signature at the bottom, she felt her resolve.

"I cannot." Her own voice sounded small but unwavering. "It is not the kind of reason you would understand."

"Try me," said Weiss, dryly.

"Please leave, Captain," Blake asked of her instead, stepping out of her chair in hopes of walking away from the fight. "I'm sure you have many important duties to attend to. Is trying to keep an incompetent worker from leaving her post really one of them?"

"Incompetent?" She heard the shrill tone repeat at her. "You're one of the best soldiers this kingdom has ever seen!"

A great exaggeration, Blake remarked inwardly, but she knew that her audience had the tendency to act dramatically. "It matters not how I am at my job. It is time that I've left it."

"What is this really about, Belladonna?" Weiss rounded on her again. "What is it that you're protesting for? Is this regarding your past? You must be bright enough to know that I've never once judged you for your lineage! People can't choose which family they are born into."

"This isn't about that," stated Blake, glancing discreetly at the door.

"I'm the one who bothered to look past your history," continued Weiss, stepping in front of the exit as if she read the other's mind. "I spotted you for your potential, your aptitude as a sailor, as a survivor. Do you have any idea how many strings I had to pull in order to secure a position for you?"

There was an unmistakable snap, and Blake felt something surge from within, like a beast that could not be tamed. She moved back slowly towards the wall, afraid that her own rising anger would get the better of her judgment.

"I did not ask for it," she stated through bared teeth.

"You didn't-" Weiss stopped mid-sentence, clearly baffled by the response. "This is ridiculous! If you were going to despise the job that much, then what inspired you to accept the offer in the first place?"

"It was forced upon me!" In a short outburst, Blake allowed for her emotions to boil, the folly of Weiss's mind enraging her by the minute. "There is very little someone of my social standing could do when a letter summons you to the royal castle! It wasn't an offer. It wasn't a choice. It was coercion."

The accusation escaped from her, assigning a fault she never even knew she possessed. Immediately, Blake halted herself, berating her own aggression. Yet the bottle had already been thrown.

"Is that what you claim?" Weiss asked in an anguished voice, a subdued expression dimming the bridges of her face. "You claim that this is what I've subjected you for the past few years…? A life no different to slavery?"

"...No. It was nothing at all like slavery," Blake whispered, her anger dissipating. "I- I apologize, Captain. I did not mean to place any blame. You don't deserve such a treatment from someone like me... You were kind. You were different-"

"Oh, please," Weiss snapped, pulling away with a rueful frown. "Spare me this talk of the nobility being nothing but a group of oppressive tyrants. I know that the upper class has it better than most do in the city, and I know what people like you must think of privileged people like me."

Weiss trailed off, and the distance grew between them once more.

"But that cannot be the only reason. There's more to this story. I know there is," Weiss decided firmly, determined to get to the bottom of things.

The mood grew cold and enticing. Blake watched, in nervous waiting, as the young woman before her drifted around the room, pursing her lips together with a featureless face.

"There's been…rumors about you," Weiss started again, a mildly distrustful tone encroaching into her tone. "Quite unsettling ones, I might add."

"I see." Blake stared down at her hands, already expecting the worst. "And what has the latest gossip been saying about me now?"

"You've befriended a pirate."

It wasn't a question. And if it were even meant to be confused as one, the shadow looming over Blake's visage did little to hide her thoughts about the matter.

"A few of my men confessed to having seen you…in the company of Captain Xiao Long." Something about the way in which Weiss spoke, it made it seem as though her suspicions had already been confirmed. "I hope you know that fraternizing with the enemy is a crime punishable by law. If you are even remotely related to the recent thefts from the royal kingdoms… There are no pieces of evidence to support this, of course, but if they were to find something… Anything at all…"

There was a small, untimely cough. Weiss had started to ramble, stopping herself only by an intentional hem; this was a habit Blake witnessed numerous times in the past. And as usual, Weiss went on unheedingly, resuming in a stronger volume than before. "They will not let this matter rest- my superiors. They will follow you on your travels. They will watch your every step. You'll be living the rest of your life on the run."

"I will not run from anyone," Blake replied, wearing an honest frown. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Perhaps not yet." Weiss bit down on the corner of her lips. "But the woman standing before me today seems more than capable of doing just that, does she not?"

There was a resonating silence, a deep pause, as the sheer quality of this statement began to sink in.

"She has the experience, the insider's knowledge, the and…the motivation for revenge. If she were to do anything suspicious such as- such as handing in a sudden letter of resignation when there are vicious rumors of double crossings and enemy spies floating around… If anything like that were to happen…" Weiss leveled another stare at her, acting as though she needed greater effort to do it this time around. "Then I would have no choice but to arrest you as a suspect."

"...I understand." Blake wasn't sure what it was that bothered her the most: the hollowness in her voice, the stoic mask she refused to let down, or the inescapable trace of acceptance. "Do what you feel is necessary," she found herself saying.

Smack!

Blake blinked, her hands falling limp by her sides. A stinging sensation burned through her right cheek. It took a while to register the strike of violence.

"Captain…"

"Do not speak," Weiss commanded as she pinned her to the wall. "You have done everything to deserve that. And  _that_ , in my opinion, was completely necessary."

She raised her hand again, and Blake winced, bracing for another slap on the face. But Weiss lowered a closed fist, appearing conflicted between her own feelings of belief and betrayal.

"Don't be so daft, Belladonna," muttered Weiss, sounding hurt. "As if I would ever arrest you... I'm just angry. I haven't gone completely mad."

"…Of course."

"I thought you were my friend. I thought you were someone I could depend on!" Weiss ranted. "Deserting me like this, without so much as a word of farewell-"

"It's ungrateful," Blake agreed with no uncertainty. "I know this."

"If you know this, then why are you doing it?"

It was a fair question. Blake wore a bitter smile as she hung her head. "Losing your trust is a price I will have to pay for my freedom."

"But you _are_ free," insisted Weiss. "You were bought by my family as a child, to work as my personal servant, and then I freed you of your chains when you turned into a woman. You already have what you desire."

With a mollified gaze, Blake shook her head. "I wish to travel the world, and see all of what it has to offer. I intend to do it with no agenda or a destination, without duties or regulations. I cannot do this if I were to stay here. And if I were to stay here, I cannot expect to live. It's no longer a desire for me. It's a need."

"A need..." Weiss lowered her head, drinking in her words with an impressive showcase of patience.

"And you plan on doing this with your new pirate friends?" The tone of resentment returned for a moment. "With those… those bloodthirsty rapscallions?"

"…No," Blake answered slowly. "I plan to do this on my own."

A different answer hung by the tip of her tongue. But she withheld it, not knowing how well it would be received.

"I'm sorry. I truly am," Blake murmured, wearing the shadow of another parting. "Despite our differences, it's been a pleasure serving you for all these years. I will never forget what you have done for me in the past. I am, and will forever be, indebted to you."

"That's not true," Weiss grumbled. "If you really believed that, then you wouldn't be leaving."

"Perhaps." Blake was thankful that, at least for the final heart-to-heart, she could count on herself, to be frank. "But if you do consider me to be your equal. If I am, in your eyes, not an ex-slave, not a mere subordinate, but a… a friend, then I beg of you to understand that this is something I must do."

Weiss didn't raise her head; she didn't gift her with a vocal response. And yet, sometimes silence was a better way of ending things than a wretched goodbye. In quiet acknowledgment, Blake bowed, and then picked up her suitcase by its handle.

"If you are ever in need of anything," Blake said, as she moved past the doorway, "do not hesitate to contact me."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?" Weiss scoffed from behind, wiping away a rogue tear in secret. "If you're planning on traveling around the world without a single plan in sight?"

Blake grinned weakly. "I'm sure a Schnee will always find her way."

"I will- I will see you again though, won't I?" Weiss stared at her, then down at the floor, her face tinged with pink. "Among all of your absurd adventures, surely you can spare a little of your time to visit? Visit the kingdom, I mean."

It was a matter of pride with her. Weiss Schnee would never, not directly, say that she was in need of one's company. But Blake understood. She didn't turn around to face her friend again, knowing there was no need to shed tears. Instead, she laughed, feeling something old and familiar return to her, something she didn't entirely want to leave behind on her way out.

"Of course." Blake smiled to herself. "Goodbye, Weiss."

 

* * *

 

The morning fog was breaking now, and most of the boats along the harbor became visible. The seaports were always busy this time of day. A crowd of people wandered about, rushing, hurrying to catch the early sunrise.

Blake took in the chilly ocean air, feeling her footsteps grow lighter as she approached a man at the stands.

"Where will you be heading off to?" The man asked gruffly, sitting uncomfortably in a tiny stool as he stacked up a tower of bronze coins.

"It doesn't matter," Blake answered after a pause. "Whichever boat that leaves the fastest."

He narrowed his beady eyes, leaning over the counter to look down at her thinly packed baggage. "You in a hurry to get somewhere?"

"No," she said curtly, knowing that it would be bad to attract that sort of attention to herself. "I'm just an antsy traveler."

"One ticket to…anywhere then." He pushed out a small permit from underneath his chubby hands. "That will be two silvers."

"Thank you," she breathed in relief, paying the man his coins as she quickly picked up her pass. Blake could sense that the man was watching her, quite carefully, as she sauntered out of line. In mild concern, she moved through the white gates, heading off to the opposite side of the seaport. Blake walked slowly, but with constant restlessness, making sure she found herself at the correct departing dock.

It was a large ship, fit for at least a few dozen passengers. Most of the commuters had already boarded as the captain announced their soon departure from the upper deck. Blake rushed onto the entry plank, hearing the pleasant clanking of her own shoes hitting against the wooden boards.

They were headed towards the lands south of here. Blake had never been to the south before. She imagined it would be much warmer there, with exotic fruits and tropical beaches.

She let her imaginations unfold, simmering in curious thoughts as the mariners raised the anchor and raised the sails. It was a strange feeling, blending into the careless crowd, not being told what she should or should not be doing. It was the closest she had felt to a happy fever. Everything was suddenly very picturesque. It would be a long voyage, as most boat rides were, but by the end of it, she would be somewhere new.

The ship moved slowly, having been delayed in the beginning by the lack of southern winds. Yet soon they were off, and the currents underneath the stable structure swished coolly in a constant rhythm.

There were many different types of seas that Blake had seen. The sea roared mightily into the distance. The sea at night that whispered in one's ear, a gentle hiss of secrets and affairs. The sea that slopped, like the sound of soggy boots in the middle of winter. The sea that rumbled, like a mountain avalanche. The sea of dead silence, and the sea of only noise.

Today's was soft, she noted, closing her eyes as she inhaled, filling her insides with the musty scent of the ocean blue. It was the scent that soothed her the most, calming her nerves, and salvaging her soul. She did not know the meaning of peace before it.

"Traveling alone?" A thick voice interrupted her thoughts.

Blake turned her head, catching the eye of a middle-aged man she had never seen before in her life. He was short, stout, and balding, yet he proudly wore a rather bushy mustache. Beneath the hair, his lips were twined upwards, into a soft amiable smile.

"Yes," she answered sincerely, returning his gesture with an equally polite grin.

"Ah, that's no good." Tossing his head, he waved her off with a small frown. He spoke with a slight, foreign dialect, and Blake couldn't help but wonder where he was from. "These trips are too long and boring to be doing them by yourself."

"Are you here with someone?" she asked.

"Well, no." He laughed heartily to himself. "But I'm going back home to see my family. This blasted sea can't keep me separated from my two girls for that long."

For whatever reason, she could imagine the man at the arrival docks, a keen woman and two young children engulfing him with hugs and kisses as soon as he walked off the plank.

"That must be nice," Blake remarked, grinning in an almost wistful manner. He nodded in gentle agreement, and then made a few bristling noises, wrestling something dark and brown out of his pocket.

"Here." He handed it to her. "Have a biscuit."

She accepted it with two hands, and though Blake had to dust off a piece of lint from it, she took a bite from it nonetheless. It was sweet and crunchy, with a strong whiff of butter coming from inside its crust.

"I baked them myself," the man said proudly. "I hope you like it."

"It's delicious," Blake told him, finishing off the melting crumbs in her mouth. "Thank you."

An instant tremble followed her compliment, and the ship shook violently in protest. There was a brief splash of water, and Blake wiped a few droplets away from her nose. It was a common phenomenon when traveling out in nature.

"Woah! That was a big wave." The man groaned, moving a hand in front of his mouth. "I tell you, I'll never get used to these darn waters. I'll be throwing up over the deck pretty soon."

"You should go sit down." With a worried frown, Blake advised him. "You do look a bit green."

"You might be right about that, little lady." He emitted another long moan, as the sea beneath them grew more fierce. "It was nice talking to you anyway. Have a safe journey!"

"Thank you," she told him with deep sincerity and stared at the man who staggered off. He passed a tall figure, bumping into the human shadow as he left. Blake frowned, noticing the odd presence a quarter of a moment too late. Within seconds, it vanished before her eyes. She blinked, unsure of whose silhouette she had just seen.

Had she been followed?

A rush of paranoia plagued her, as Blake instantly remembered her friend's final warnings, one of the last lectures she would ever receive from the famous Schnee heiress. Blake knew, from experience, when she was being watched. She perceived the same sort of prickling along the nape of her neck. It came with that same unshakable feeling of a shrouded presence, lurking somewhere in the dark.

Squinting, her eyes grew sharper in agitation, and did not rest until they noticed a microscopic movement to her sides.

It was at the empty space on the landing beside her, a niche in between the stern and the ship's cabins. It was small but large enough for a stowaway to hide in. A thin shadow darkened from inside; it grew, losing in shade and gaining in color, as it stepped back into the light.

Undoubtedly, it was the same figure from before, revealed to have been hiding behind a beige hooded cape. The head panned right and left, before disappearing around the corner. There was a fleeting gap of a chance as the wind blew across the ship, breezing through the stranger's hood by accident.

Within the short moment, Blake saw flying locks of golden hair.

Her feet moved on their own free will, shifting closer to the source of her pounding heart.

It couldn't be her. Blake swallowed nervously, remembering the reoccurring dream she had pushed to the deepest branches of her mind. She felt the blood rush back into her ears, reddening them as she picked up her pace in shameful interest.

She turned the corner and saw something that quickly rid her of cheer.

It all happened too fast.

There was a deafening fire, a jarring crack resembling a close thunderclap.

The color of gold was gone. Possibly, it had never been there, and quite possibly she had been visited by her own silly little imaginations. In its absence, there was an eerie pitch of silence and a piercing wave of pain.

Blake reeled back, dazed and confused. Her head drooped down, her vision shaking as she noticed the small black hole in the bottom half of her shirt. Red liquid seeped out from underneath, without a warning, without a second of delay.

A sticky, wet substance dripped onto the floor, tainting the wood in dark crimson. Her mind felt muddled and useless. Her chest began to burn.

From afar, a woman's scream kept her awake, and Blake urged her brain to keep functioning. She bit down on her tongue, not ever imparting the satisfaction of victory when she fell, her legs buckling as the shock ricocheted through her spine.

Her mouth tasted raw of blood. Its rustic tang did well to inform her that this was real.

She felt her body sway. She heard the churning of the oceans swelling as her breath hitched, her head leaning over the board.

"Kingdom."

She heard a word.

"Traitorous scum."

She heard him speak another.

The voice was unrecognizable, and yet she felt no need to match it to her assailant's face. She had seen the navy hat, and that was enough. The pistol was still smoking in his hand. Her memory fizzled, fading with the image of a white coat, strutting an emblem of ironic justice, a mockery of what true patriotism should be.

The gunshot had been a wake-up call. A cruel reminder, at its worst.

She had been nothing but a tool, used once and then thrown away when the deed was done. Her life was that of a dried up worm, squirming for a few worthless seconds until her body finally caved, withered, and died. The future was already set in stone. The choice was not at her disposal. It had never been there for her to begin with. A change was futile. She realized that now. Like everything else in her life, she realized it a minute too late.

There was another banging of a pistol. Blake closed her eyes, listening to the ocean calling her home. The waves crashed from down below, biding its time until their inevitable embrace.


	3. Chapter 3

_"I promise. When I'm older, and I'm strong enough to fight, I promise, I'll fight for your freedom!"_

_They joined hands. They walked down the steps together, two children, who had the craziest right to dream._

_"Wait for me, Blake Belladonna! I will come for you."_

_She almost spoke, expecting that it would come out high and squeaky, and full of delicious hope. Yet her throat was not her own; it felt scratchy and old._

_All at once, Blake perceived herself to be growing. The young blonde, too, noticed this. She turned, lifting her small nose, and her tiny lilac eyes widening in surprise._

_"Wow, Blake!" The child took a step back as she observed. "You're all grown up!"_

_It was true. Blake glanced down at herself, noting that her limbs had lengthened, her hair longer, her chest developed, and her height now towering over Yang's petite form. She was an adult so soon._

_There was a sharp pain in her upper abdomen, and Blake winced, falling to her knees as the throbs grew unbearably strong. With a gasp, a tiny Yang was by her feet, crawling on all fours as she tried to level a stare with her._

_"Are you okay?" Her child version asked quickly. "Are you hurt?"_

_"It's fine_ _…" she lied. "I'm fine…"_

_"Don't worry. I'll protect you!" The small blonde charged forward, daring herself to press her hands against Blake's stomach. She left them there, staring at her own fingers like their presence alone would make the difference. "I'll make the pain go away!"_

_"You can't help me." Blake almost laughed, taking the girl's hands and pushing them away from her own. "You can't save me. You're just a child."_

_"Just a child?" Big, purple eyes blinked at her in confusion. Then, they brightened, giggling at her as if she were being needlessly absurd._

_"What are you talking about?" She dissolved into laughter. "Look who's carrying you, you big dummy!"_

_Her stomach lurched, and Blake felt her body rise, no, be lifted. She suddenly felt weightless, and for a second, the pain seemed to null. She peeked over her shoulders, taking in the sudden scent of citrus that drew her in. Warm arms embraced her, holding her up as her legs dangled off into the air. A grown woman looked down at her, gifting her with that inseparable radiance of hers._

 

* * *

 

There was an explosion of water; it swept against her like a physical alarm, striking her back, her face, and eventually consuming her entire being.

Like a primal instinct, her hands searched. The moment her eyes opened again, Blake yearned for the warmth to return. It was fading away quickly, drowning as she departed from dreams into grasps of reality.

The fear came to her like the wave, blinding her, arising panic. She felt the water around her ache. She had been shot. There would be a gaping hole below her chest, and she would be bleeding; she would lose too much blood, she would go into shock. A creature amid the waters would smell her flesh, her bones, her delicate organs, and come for her, dine on her like a rare feast.

Her despairing hands found something in the ocean; it was spongy and malleable. There was still a hint of heat being emitted from it. She coughed up a mouthful of water, watching as the second passed, waiting for the object to fully surface.

It was a human body.

A fresh corpse, with a bullet straight through the man's forehead. She recognized the white uniform he wore and saw the blankness of his expression. She let out a vivid shriek, and kicked away from him, like a disease she wished to avoid, like a surreal future of her own that she didn't want to see.

It hurt to move. It tortured her to breathe. The water about her shifted wildly, reflecting her crazed will to defy gravity. Everything around her screamed: the sea, the wind, the sun.

She would not make it. She would drown. Her nose and mouth kept dipping, back and forth, between the thin line of life and death. She was hardly moving anymore and her movements were weak. Soon, her legs gave away and she felt her body grow senseless in defeat. How poetic, that this would be the end for her. The ocean would be her afterlife.

Her body sank, deeper and deeper until she finally submerged. Her eyes squinted, staying open long enough to see the green murky water and the bubbles of her own descent. Then, they closed, and she was left in the darkness completely. It felt like someone was carving curses into her heart, nailing in a thick stake of wood. Her lungs were being scorched. Blake was tempted to open her mouth, but she knew that this fire would not be extinguished by water. Only air, she needed air.

She wished her brain ceased to work. If death were to happen, she hoped for it to happen soon, craving to have that sweet release of ignorance and that she could forget the reason why she was here. She had never experienced such intense pain, such a ripping of the nerves, such an ache of the heart.

The spot of oxygen in her chest kept her conscious for a brief moment, and her muffled ears heard a rippling splash. There was a rush of force to her right, and something was pulling at her waist, tugging violently at her torso.

A shark! She instantly thought; Blake struggled, though the force was too strong. Then logic paved her way, and she remembered that sharks had only fins, not arms.

There was a dramatic burst, and a bit of light seeped through her shut eyelids. Her head was barely above the water, but she felt her nose burn, deciphering through the salt and the swallowed waters, to acknowledge the wondrous works of the worldly air.

No time for frozen shock. Something inside urged her to fight. She did not want to give up on life. It was bizarre, how she suddenly longed to live when she had been apathetic about it for so long. There was nothing she could do about human instinct. It wasn't a question of courage. It was constitutional, an innate inability to let go. It made everything worse. She had never wished this badly to feel the rays of sunshine. It was a heavenly reminder. She was alive. She was human. And she needed to keep fighting.

She clung onto the sole thing that kept her afloat. Whatever it was, it was moving, struggling, sounding as if it were in as much pain and suffering as she was.

"Keep swimming!" It yelled at her. "Don't stop! Don't- We're almost there, Blake! We're almost there!"

She heard a low bump, and Blake assumed they had hit a large boulder. Rough hands grabbed her blind ones, leading them towards a harsh, leathery tension of a rope. Then, the presence disappeared, leaving her in a chasm of confusion.

"Hold on!" The same voice ordered at her from above. It was distant and dim like her ears were plugged by something wet. Blake clung onto the cord like she was told, her body feeling less in control by the tiniest fleeting second.

From behind, a strong grip grabbed her by the shoulders, slithering underneath both her arms. There was an agonizing pull, and she felt her body be lifted with strain, the upper part of her figure finally leaving the wet strokes of the waves.

Another giant heave and her legs dangled, the back of her body being scraped alongside a hard, dry structure. At last, her body dropped against a fully solid surface.

It wasn't land, as her body still swayed, left then right, like the sea. The roars of the ocean were evident.

Yet the wood underneath her was dry and hot, and she appreciated its lack of moisture. She coughed, and gasped, and choked - not knowing when the cycle would end if it ever did.

A rough hand turned her around, placing her flat on her back. Her gasps worsened, and she experienced a gross, fuzzy feeling as the remaining water droplets dribbled out of her clogged ears.

She heard the tearing noise of fabric and dimly noticed that the front of her shirt had been ripped open. A cold breeze grazed at her bare skin and stung her like madness.

With a snap, something poured down her front; the liquid burned her, and this time, Blake had no choice but to scream, thrashing in pain as it raided into the sensitive pockets of her exposed skin. It smelled terrible, like a mixture of sulfur and alcohol.

Every hair on her was standing up, screeching in torment. A hand attempted to calm her, and there was a loud ringing in her ear, a plea she couldn't distinguish through the blur of pain. It must have been telling her to stop; a hard pressure came across her shoulder, pinning her down to the board with forceful extremity.

"It's okay! It's all right! I'm trying to help you- Let me help you! This is going to make it stop! Listen to me, Blake! This is going to make the pain stop!"

The chants did not work. It did little to deter her at all. She wanted to scream, and she would scream until it stopped. She would scream until she lost all her air.

"Trust me," the voice urged her. "Please!"

It didn't make sense. Please? Please, what?

"Please… Please live."

The sudden weight of her exhaustion piled on top of her limbs. She felt her mind slip away, and even then, the pain did not stop.

 

* * *

 

It was amazing what one could hear, when alone in the darkness of impending doom.

"Belladonna?" Someone called out to her. "Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

Blake concluded that she had gone mad. It was probably not as uncommon as she thought, growing insane in the face of death. Misery loved company, and madness appeared to have brought it forth.

"Can you- Can you see me?" The voice came again, acting particularly insistent.

"…Who?" She managed to rasp back, and to her great surprise, Misery let out a happy sigh of relief.

"It's me." It was a woman, definitely a woman who answered her question. "The captain."

"Captain?" A bit of her mind cleared, and Blake concentrated, narrowing down the list of prospects. "…Weiss?"

There was a low grumble in reply to that.

"No, not her," said the female. "You must remember me, Lieutenant. I'm the far more attractive one."

What a puzzling argument; Blake couldn't even begin to think how this was supposed to be a lead to go on. She would have to open her eyes.

It was a slow, dull process, and everything else fell silent again. Between her efforts, she nearly fainted, but something prevented her from losing herself completely. She had heard that voice before, that undisguised vote of confidence.

When she finally pried her lids open, the world was hazy and blurry. The air felt so new to her that she instantly drew tears. Her vision was clouded like her sight had been spotted out by black ink.

In the center, of what she could see, was the outline of a human figure. Her pupils adjusted, attempting to focus as she took in parts by parts.

A light, sandy-colored cape. An orange bandanna around her neck. A black piercing at the top corner of her right ear.

A set of pearly white teeth. A thick mane of blonde hair, slightly damp but never tamed, running wild and free.

"To call yourself attractive…" Blake furrowed her brows, turning pale as she recognized the figure. "You're shameless, Captain Xiao Long."

"I am." The pirate couldn't help but laugh at this rebuke. "How are you feeling?"

"...Like I've been shot." she managed to squeeze out another sentence. "Shot... I've been shot."

With the word, her muscles twitched involuntarily. A knot tied around her neck, her memories serving nothing but fear. Her body rocked with the ocean. She saw short sails, the color of wood, the blazing sun overhead, and the endless extent of deep emerald green waters. Blake's breaths hastened at once, and the pirate edged closer, growing apprehensive at the abrupt change.

"But you-" Blake gasped, just realizing the enormity of everything. "You- Where?"

"We're on a boat," Yang quickly explained, keeping their eyes locked as to exhume a source of comfort for her. "Don't worry. We're alone. You're safe now."

"Not… I meant..." Her logic was garbled. She struggled to practice proper diction. "Why- Why are you here?"

"That's hardly a thing to say to someone who just saved your life."

"My life… Exactly." Even she, the speaker, could only make out a few words from her voice. "Why?"

The pirate fidgeted on her rear, glancing between Blake and the sea as she tugged on the boat's ropes.

"I saw you, by coincidence, at the seaport," Yang began with a level of caution. "You weren't wearing your usual uniform, and you were carrying a suitcase, catching a ship headed towards the south. I wasn't sure what you were up to. Curiosity got the better of me, and I followed you on board."

"You almost caught me watching." Yang flinched, like she was afraid of retribution. "I hid behind a corner, in case you noticed, and then- And then I watched as that man..."

There was a definite rage, and a wild possessive sense to her words, as if someone had broken a precious belonging of the pirate's. Regardless, the story didn't answer Blake's question. The anger didn't either.

"But why?" She croaked again. She needed a reason. Without it, she would be driven insane by her own inventive mind.

"I did it because it was you," said the pirate, with an untamed expression of affections. "And if you were to die, I don't know what I would do with myself."

There she was. One of the most infamous pirates of the century, the face of revolution by the oppressed, smiling down at her like she wouldn't trade her in for the world, not for a castle, not for a chest of jewels, not even for a second chance at life.

Blake couldn't allow herself to understand. The memory, the memory of the young child returned to her, more clearly than ever before.

"Do I carry that much value to you?" she asked in a low whisper.

"Of course," Yang answered. An intense fondness gazed over her. "You are my greatest treasure."

Blake wished to ask for more, but the pirate stood on her feet, shedding off her long beige jacket. She placed it over Blake's shoulders, like a thick woolly blanket.

"Rest for now," she instructed. "We can talk later."

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Blake could not move. Pinned by a daunting sensation of weakness, she felt the emptiness of her insides and yet had no cravings for any sustenance. Even thinking was exhausting, but she applied herself to the bare minimum task. There was a need for three thoughts in order to come together again.

The day was unlike the previous, cool and overcast, the clouds low, the wind strong. That was one.

The boat was shaking more than usual, that was another.

The popping sound of a lid, and then a short swish of a drink. Blake turned, finding Yang sitting on top of the bow, staring off into the distance with a dark bottle in her hands. The third, most important, a reminder of her current existence.

"What are you drinking?"

The pirate nearly fell over into the water, spewing out a bit of substance as she pivoted on her bottom. Wide lilac eyes brightened towards her. "You-You're awake!"

"How long has it been since…?" The rest of Blake's words faded into a low murmur. She asked with much difficulty. It was a single question, but to utter it was a completely different manner. A thousand daggers were upon her, stabbing her each time she spoke a solid syllable.

"A day and a half," Yang told her speedily. "Don't worry, I'll get us to land soon. You'll be able to see a proper doctor there."

Blake tried to sit up, but her lungs unexpectedly convulsed, forcing her to let out a string of morbid coughs instead.

"Don't." Yang seized her promptly, a firm hand landing on her shoulder as to keep her steady. "Don't move so much. You wouldn't want your wounds to reopen."

Her wound. She grimaced at the unintentional reminder. "How- How bad is it?"

She had been too tired to check her conditions before. Even with the most generous calculations, her situation couldn't be too good.

With an untimely pause, Yang's lips flattened into a formidable line, and Blake managed to catch a single breath, this time being able to do it without a spasm. She took the silence to mean its worst, and without waiting for a proper reply, Blake took matters into her own hands. With a slight shudder, she reached out her fingers, her own nails feeling so cold against the side of her skin. There was a white cloth wrapped around her stomach, and the place of injury, to her accurate prediction, was still seeped through with red.

"It's not as bad as it looks," said the pirate, quietly. "I made sure to clean it before dressing it so that there won't be any infections."

"…Thank you." Blake didn't know what else to say, feeling numb as she allowed her shirt to fall back, covering up the gruesome sight. Her head felt awfully light, as if just looking at the injury brought along a new wave of nausea and blood loss.

"I don't understand." Yang looked at her once, her brow creased. "What happened to you? I thought you were on their side. Why would you allow that soldier to attack you?"

From the question, Blake could tell that the pirate had been meaning to ask this from the beginning, but had been holding back until she was feeling well enough to answer. If she weren't so tired, Blake would have rolled her eyes. She had hardly "allowed" the man to maim her. She had been caught off guard, by phantoms of the pirate sitting before her, to be exact. Even so, Blake knew better than to speak of this, and her head ached too much to consider between the cause and the effect.

"I left," she said simply.

"You left?" Yang echoed her like a parrot.

"Yes," she mumbled, not being able to conceal the bitter spite. "They seemed to have trouble believing that it was for innocent reasons rather than a dubious one..."

Yang scratched the side of her chin, sincerely curious as she asked: "What did they think you were up to?"

"That I would join your side." Blake laughed at the idea. "Become a pirate."

"Oh. But- But you weren't planning on doing what they thought?" Yang stammered. She appeared taken aback, nearly embarrassed by her own excitement.

"Don't get your hopes up, Captain Xiao Long." Blake shot her down with an unapologetic look. "You're not that tempting of a prize."

"…Well, I hope you know that your words cut into me like a knife." Yang pretended to be greatly wounded. "I'm so deeply wounded, I think I might jump overboard for a swim and never come back!"

"How dramatic of you." Blake chuckled as she watched Yang with intrigue. "Have you always been this chatty?"

"I'm surprised you even have to ask," Yang teased.

"Hmm." Blake noticed the bottle in Yang's hands again. "I asked what it is you were drinking before." From the scent of her breath, Blake knew it wasn't water.

"Rum," the pirate answered her, peering into the drinking hole as she wore a glum frown. "Sadly, there's not much of it left."

"I see..."

"You like it, don't you?" Yang recalled. "I smelt it on you the last time we met. It surprised me, you know. I thought you would have a taste for something much classier."

"Classier?" Blake frowned at the implication. "I'm an ex-slave."

"You never stole a sip of wine? You never smuggled a bottle of the best brandy there is?" There was a look of incredulity on the pirate's face. "My god, where do your priorities lie, Lieutenant Belladonna? That's the first thing I would have done if I worked at a rich man's house."

"Well... I suppose I missed my chance."

"You sound tired." Yang was quick to recognize her exhaustion. "Are you falling asleep again?"

With little energy, she managed a nod. Yang pouted, looking as though she was a child being told to go to bed. It was a nice, lasting image to hold on to, as Blake closed her eyes.

Yang seemed to stew on her own for a minute, apparently dissatisfied over how abruptly their banter had ended.

"Don't be asleep for too long," Yang demanded of her. "I hate being in silence."

 

* * *

 

Her senses reawakened in coordinated stages. Like always, thirst was the first for her to perceive.

The pain felt better, by a minuscule amount. It would be odd now, for it to suddenly vanish. She had grown used to waking up, feeling one step away from being buried underground. Like the eye of a storm, after an eerie instant of peace, disaster would always strike.

There was something rigid in her chest, like a dense object burrowing into her bloodstream. In a state of strange detachment, Blake had a moment to consider about the exit wound. Then, her hearing returned.

She listened to the soft susurrus of voices. It came in a collective rhythm, talking quietly to someone who didn't reply.

They were still on the boat. Her nose unplugged, flowing in the smell of must and fish, matching the loud lullabies of the ocean. Blake stayed unmoving, afraid of what damage she might inflict if she did. Her body was like lead, fixed to its one indefinite spot.

"Are you still asleep?"

Against her wishes, Blake couldn't answer, her lips clamped together with an eternal dryness. Her silence fooled the pirate, who sighed to herself in open disappointment.

"I feel like an idiot talking to myself," Yang complained, and Blake heard a distant plunk. She wondered what Yang could be tossing, but her eyelids felt glued as well.

"You have no idea how hard you have made things for me, Blake," said Yang, talking to herself as if she were speaking to a real audience.

There was another plunk, and Blake stayed in slight apprehension, wondering if the pirate would be saying this if she knew her to be awake. She felt even worse when Yang climbed near her, clambering into the adjoining seat. Her body radiated like a heater.

"I had a sister once," Yang began the tale in a hush. "She was two years younger than me, and we were inseparable. We used to run around the island together, dressing up in our father's clothes, pretending to be pirates and talking of taking over the world. It didn't matter if we were just kids."

A hard swallow ran down her throat. "But one day, when we were hungry and starving… We decided to sneak out of the house and steal some food. There was a small bakery opened in the outskirts of town. But… We were inexperienced. We were caught. And as you're well aware, there are no exceptions to the law, not even to children."

There was a moment of silence. A sharp intake of breath.

"She died, and I survived."

Blake shuddered, a chill condensing in her chest.

"It was a clean shot straight through the heart... I couldn't do anything but hold her hand as she... She was only seven. Too young- Too young to say goodbye."

Yang's voice drifted off, full of emotion. She was on the verge of tears, and if she could, Blake would have comforted her in a gracious embrace.

"You reminded me of her, when we first met," Yang said when she could steady herself. "Broken. Lost... I tried to return, to visit you the next day, but you were gone."

The reason for her compassion hadn't been out of pity. It was empathy.

"The first time I saw you again," Yang called to mind, "was on my seventeenth birthday… It was late at night, and I saw you from across the bay. You were sitting by yourself on the docks, crying. Your tears, actually, helped me remember you."

There was a short pause, and then a murmur of disagreement.

"No, that's a lie," Yang corrected herself. "I've always remembered you. I'll always remember you, Blake. I kept our promise close to my heart."

Blake laid on her spine, her eyes remaining tightly closed. It didn't seem to matter to the pirate; in a way, it must have made the story easier to tell.

"That night, I didn't sleep. I wondered if you were still living in chains. I wondered why you were crying. I called for you. I repeated your name at least a thousand times. I wondered if you bothered to remember the name that I had given you."

With the scuffling of shoes, Yang moved away from her again. Blake held back a whimper. It felt colder, much colder, without her presence nearby.

"The second time was along the eastern seaboard," the voice recommenced, with a more sullen undertone. "You were wearing the uniform of the Royal Navy…"

She heard the rise in anger, and Blake knew exactly why.

"I didn't know what to think of it," said Yang quite bitterly. "You were serving the people who murdered my sister. The same people who put you in chains! I was angry. Heartbroken. Disappointed… I almost shot you right away, to be honest."

There was a slight quiver in her lips, and Blake prayed that the other would not notice.

"But then… I heard them call you by your name." The tension eased gradually. "Lieutenant Blake Belladonna, they called you… I felt it light a spark in my heart. What made you change your mind, Blake? Remind me to ask you when you're awake."

It was a beautiful sound, of hope, of buoyant optimism. Blake couldn't help it, she couldn't withstand it any longer. With minimal courage, she opened her heavy eyes, keeping them squinted in a level of secretive caution. Thankfully, Yang was choosing not to look her way.

"My father's always been a part of the rebellion. Pirates, they called us. And pirates we'd become. We steal to give back to the poor. We fight to see another day of sunlight. And by the third time we met, I had taken over my father's role and was the captain of my own ship." Yang's face set into a grim and determined expression. "And the third time… The third time was when we were finally able to speak. I chose the ship that you were on. I wanted to meet you. I wanted to see how you were."

Blake remembered the encounter clearly like it had been yesterday. It was hard, impossible to forget the minute she saw the shadow emerge from underneath the dim light.

A female pirate, with a poignant smile and an unloaded pistol.

"You said one word to me that day." Yang seemed to recoil, folding into herself as she embraced the memory. "Murderer."

A shiver of ice ran through her. Blake wished she could have blamed it on the sea.

"I knocked you out cold." Yang looked downwards, into the empty spaces of the boat. "And then, I ran."

Her fingers folded around her arms, nails gripping into her skin, shaking in leftover anger and disbelief.

"A murderer? Me? Hah!" Yang let out a cold, unfitting laugh. "How many lives have  _they_  taken away from us? How many innocent souls have  _they_  neglected, beaten, and starved? It wasn't murder. It was justice! We were doing the world justice!" Her voice rose.

"I was fighting for our freedom! And yet you- You did nothing but erase the memory between us! All you left behind was your name, a name you claimed to have despised in the beginning..."

Blake almost reached out, risking to startle Yang, to break the pirate out of her demoralizing trance. But, she knew, Blake knew that these words must be said aloud and that she – under whatever circumstances – were to listen to them.

Blake waited for a second, as the weather took her away, a tuneful breeze answering to her call instead.

The waves slowly calmed, turning smooth as they splashed at the heel.

"There are no right or wrong people in this world," Yang spoke without emotion. "Just survivors."

Her hands, which had been curled into two white fists, released themselves. "I'm sick of fighting in this war."

"Freedom. I desire it too," Yang admitted, allowing her body to sag in defeat. "I know I claimed to have found it, but I don't know… I don't know if I have enough of it to give to you."

It was a burden. A burden she had chosen to carry the whole way through.

"If you-" Yang stopped herself. "After you survive this… I promise, Blake. I will never let them hurt you ever again. I swear upon it with my life."

The two drifted together along the waters, drifting towards a calming sunset. Both of them rested soundlessly for once, basking in the absence of noise as they approached the red horizon.

A vicious fever came only with the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

The day of her "freedom" came abruptly, with no build up or a climax. It barely felt like a day out of the ordinary. She had been favored by the Schnee family, a notoriously famous and influential household among the kingdoms. She was different. She excelled at all her given tasks. She had knowledge from books she read in secret. She had potential, but the demeanor of a slave – an ideal trait of a man's servant, she supposed. The young heiress of the mansion found something in the depth of her eyes, a value worth harnessing.

When the shackles broke, the slave did not flinch. She didn't breath. She didn't laugh. She didn't so much as give a smile. Her legs still felt heavy. Even without the chains, she could not run. She had forgotten how.

One day, a week after her release, she was brought in front of her former master. The man of privilege; he asked if she would continue to work for his youngest daughter. She could do nothing but nod. There was no other way she knew how to live than that.

He asked what she would like to be called. The girl blinked, not comprehending the inquiry.

"Your name," the man repeated himself. "You need a name."

She still didn't understand but knew better than to question his authority.

Why? She would have liked to ask. Why now? How have the circumstances changed? What was wrong with calling her by her previous titles? Why not "girl" or "you" or even just "slave." With the nobility, it was always just business. Everything had rules and customs. She would learn this quickly enough.

"Blake," she had answered.

It came, without an indication of an origin. Yet she felt it crawl out from her insides, echoing in her mind like a sole voice in an empty chamber.

"I wish to be called Blake," she had decided.

Only now, did she remember why it must have been so.

 

* * *

 

The morning felt wrong.

The weather had calmed, to a point of deadly stillness. The wind had petered out and died. Everything suffered. Everything became sun-bleached and weather-beaten. The ball of fire above their heads drained rather than shined. It felt as though her entire body had been robbed of moisture.

For once, Yang was asleep, her head lulling to the side as she remained sitting next to her. Blake squinted through the rays, shimmering brightly across the horizon. The light pained her, hurting her retinas. Her head spun to no rhythm she could fathom. It wasn't the churns of the sea. It wasn't the motion of the ocean wind; it was erratic and ruthless.

A violent urge to vomit swelled inside her; Blake shivered, crawling into a smaller ball as she tried to quell her stomach. She had never been sick before, not on calm waters such as these. A piercing burn ran across her when she moved. The jacket slid off of her body, and despite the sun, she felt even colder.

Something raced within her, rumbling dangerously, until she realized it was the sound of her own heart: rapid and short. There was a dull ringing in both her ears, and she pressed one against the wood, hoping that it would stop, wishing for the world to go silent once more.

Amid the pool of dizziness, a desperate thought visited her mind. An idea, fresh from the point of pain. Blake lifted her head to be certain of her choices. The pirate was still resting; this would be a rare opportunity to seek out the truth for herself.

She lowered her chin. Then, with careful trepidation, she eased through her dressings, trying to lift the white fabric by a minuscule amount. Blake bit down on her tongue, feeling the sharp tinges of the material grazing against the gash. She breathed with difficulty, moving her eyes onto her stomach. The surrounding area of it was already red and sweaty.

Immediately, she saw the sickly color of yellow. Bits of skin were rippled around the edges, marked in shades of red, black, and yellow. The shape of the hole was no longer recognizable, flays of leftover flesh had swollen around it.

Her voice was lost. Even if she did remember how to utter words, there was nothing she would be able to say. She had seen injuries like these before. She had seen what they took from their victims - those who were left in the sick bay below the deck, tended to but never cared for, not when the other seafarers knew what fates were in store for them. An unpleasant, ugly end. She would meet one of them quite soon.

It wasn't injustice. It was not a lack of compassion or empathy. It was simply the way things were. There was little anyone could do for treatment, not on a small sailing boat in the middle of nowhere.

"This is it," somebody said from a retired corner. "I'm dying."

Blake blinked, believing that her ears were deceiving her. The sound hadn't been from the pirate, and there was nobody else on the boat but herself. "Who was that?" She asked with a tense edge.

"I'm me, and I'm you," the person echoed, and there seemed to be a deep throbbing coming from her head, like a physical confirmation.

"Am I speaking to myself now?" Blake laughed weakly. "How reassuring."

"Always a good sign, isn't it?" replied the same, assertive voice. Blake had no idea she was capable of being so mocking.

"I don't need this. I don't wish to go mad with my own thoughts," she conceded bitterly. "I just want it to be quick."

"But I'm not ready for death," the other part of her complained, sounding petty, sounding weak and afraid.

"It's not like there is a choice," Blake said thickly. "The wound's been infected. My blood, poisoned. There's nothing I can do about that."

"Try waking the pirate," came a suggestion. "She might know what to do."

"No." It was a firm, solemn refusal. "She doesn't need to know."

"She can help."

"I don't want her to."

Her inner self let out an indignant snort. "Why am I always so stubborn, in the most vapid, self-destructive manner?"

"I'm not being stubborn," she retorted sharply. "I'm being reasonable. She's done enough for me. There's no need to burden her with more."

"That's right," the voice suddenly agreed. "She's too selfless! She's  _too_  kind! She'll keep making promises that she can't keep. It's illogical. It's pointless."

"That is how she is." Blake frowned in slight dissent. "Her honor is what kept me alive for so long."

"But I didn't ask for it, did I?" came a rather sour dispute.

"It doesn't matter." She shook her head. "I'm thankful for it."

"It gave only false hope!"

"It gave hope," she insisted. "That is enough."

"...She's a fool," the voice made its final argument. "She's a fool whose blood will be on your hands if this relationship continues."

"She will not die. I will not stand for it," Blake fought back endlessly. "There cannot be any more sacrifices on her part. I am going to make sure of it."

"…Huh." The voice became resigned. "Well, I suppose I am a much bigger fool than I led myself to believe."

 

* * *

 

The next time she regained awareness, she awoke to the warmest palette of the sky's spectrum.

"It's been a while," Yang sighed, her face softening into a lapse of pure happiness, "since I saw the color of your eyes."

"I missed yours more," confessed Blake, relying on the darkness to hide the heat of her cheeks. Her voice cracked, sounding raspy and thin. The pirate stumbled forward, holding up a small burlap sack in her hands.

"You need water," she observed. "You must be thirsty."

Yang leaned closer, allowing Blake to catch a whiff of her hair as she leaned forward. She moved her right arm, curving it around the nape of her neck as she helped Blake raise her head.

It was a cool, chilly contact. In return, a long, hidden moan escaped from Blake's throat. Yang stirred, glancing down at her in mild amusement.

"Is it wrong for me to have been aroused by that?"

Despite her discomfort, Blake couldn't help but laugh.

"I believe so," she said, mustering up a smirk in response. It was hard to feel the muscles on her face, after having been unconscious for so long. But then, Yang's grin widened, and Blake knew she must have done right.

She drank slowly from the pouch, making sure she left plenty enough behind. With a tiny groan, Blake was settled back down onto the wooden board. Yang stayed close to her, picking up her coat and placing it over her body again, wrapping her with it like a warm protective blanket.

"You're very pretty in the moonlight," Blake mumbled, before she could think to stop herself. Her feeble fingers reached forward, staggering in awe at the golden sign. "It's like being able to see the sun and the moon together at once."

With a sudden level of curiosity and mischief, Blake poked her. It almost felt like jelly, as her index sank into the pirate's cheek. A short giggle escaped from her lips. Yang laughed as well; her innocence shone brilliantly, and Blake begged it to stay.

Only now did she realize just how thinly the pirate always dressed. Her stomach lay exposed, revealing a nicely tanned skin all around. A black tattoo ran down her hips. Her trousers hung loosely around her waist, revealing lines of agonizing temptations.

The orange bandanna she usually wore tied back her hair into a beautiful knot, attracting attention to her sharp, clean neck.

She didn't know where her energy spiked came from. There was a surge of spirit, a raw bodily vigor pumping through her veins. She felt abnormally cheery, aloft even, as her heaviest inhibitions remained tied to the ground as she floated above. Her injury couldn't keep her blind for so long. Now, she would not be deprived of justice.

She wanted it. She craved it. Blake had thought this over, countless times.

Oh, she remembered her dreams now. The pirate persisted in her mind like an infinite summer, enticing her at every turn with its heat, and maybe, just maybe, Blake would finally dare to be burned.

"What…" Yang's smile faltered. "What is it?"

She leaned on her in turn; the hunger for her empowered her, the instinct undeniable. Blake's body jerked wildly, breath emptying out of her lungs as she pulled with might.

The boat shifted as Yang fell forward towards the gunnel, stopping herself in time of suffocation. Her gasp shattered the silence, and Blake lunged forward, taking the pirate in a blazing kiss.

Yang immediately melted; her stiff, rigid body relaxing, inviting her in with that taste of sweet bondage. Yang's weight grounded them, and for several seconds they knew not when to stop.

Bliss hit her like a ton of bricks, tearing at her, burrowing at her insides as it risked an explosion. They sank down together, immune to the screams of self-control. Blake moaned, trying to swallow through her throat, which felt like sandpaper. Sweat broke out over her with a vividly sickening flush. Yet, she was hardly sane enough to care. Her onslaught was powerful. Her passions, feral.

If this wasn't an adventure, she didn't know what was. Blake clasped her arms over Yang's neck, bracing herself as she explored the pirate's mouth. There was the start of a struggle as the minutes ran deeper.

"What's wrong?" Blake asked breathlessly, her vision filled with nothing but the captivating gaze of purple.

"I don't-" Yang said through a period of pants. "I don't understand- What is it that we're doing?"

"You seem to know exactly what you're doing, Captain."

There was a bit of a splutter, as Yang appeared a little too flabbergasted to respond. Then her lips drooped into a suspicious frown, as if she could hardly believe this reaction to be real. Yang loomed over her again, placing a calloused hand over her bangs. Yang's face, immediately, plummeted.

"You have a fever," came a despondent, listless tone. "I knew you were acting strangely."

"No, I don't," Blake fought her on the matter. "I'm simply aroused by your figure."

There was a temporary pause of shock, and then-

"I think you're delirious," said Yang, in a reluctantly flustered demeanor.

"That's not very flattering, Captain." Blake frowned in disappointment. "I wonder if it is I who should be initiating the foreplay now. If you are suddenly so incapable of being charming?"

"You're…" Yang gawked at her. "You're witty at the oddest of times, Lieutenant Belladonna."

Had it been that strange of a moment? Blake wasn't sure. Looking up to the sky, she felt her breathing slow, believing this to have been a perfectly romantic scenery. The moon was a sharply defined crescent. The sea was fair, the sky clear. There were stars out tonight, a single light too many to call it dark.

But Yang's expression had faded, and with it, the mood of hilarity also vanished.

Blake remembered where they were, stranded in the middle of the ocean. She didn't need any other reminders than the burning sensation around her chest.

For a minute, they shared nothing but silence. Blake allowed her thoughts to consume her, the volume of the surrounding air and water helped her reach a final clarity.

It was odd, indeed. Blake knew what the pirate had meant now. She was dying – Yang must have noticed this as well. In death, even the most reserved people grew honest and frank. And in the final instants of her life, Blake had chosen to flirt.

Yes. It was odd, and Blake laughed to herself about it, not caring who heard her, not the fishes, the sharks, the whales, the gods, not even the pirate. Her mind was already beginning to unravel; it would make no difference whatsoever.

"This isn't right," the pirate murmured again. "I don't want to… Not like this. Not when you're too ill to know what it is that you want."

"Not now?" Blake countered with repetition. "Then when?"

"…What?"

"If not now, then when?" She forced a smile, appearing more deranged than anything else.

Yang wore a blank expression, growing paler at a question thrown in such a light, casual manner.

"Exactly when do you imagine us to be together?" Blake hummed to herself at the notion. "Once I have made a full recovery? Once we arrive on land?"

"…I don't know," grunted Yang. "I haven't thought much about it."

"That's a lie. I'm sure you have, Captain. And even you, the fascinatingly optimistic person that you are, can't think of a proper answer," Blake argued on with a laugh. "You're a marked name. Your face is on every wanted poster issued by the Royal Navy. How are we ever supposed to be together in peace? Will you keep me locked away in that pirate ship of yours? Will I become your new second in command?"

"Stop," Yang demanded irritably, unwilling to admit that Blake may have a point. "You're not making any sense right now. I refuse to talk to you when you're acting like this."

"I'm making much more sense than you are, Captain," she insisted again. "I'm not ill. I've been shot. My mind is perfectly intact. I know that I am dying. There is no other time. We're hundreds of miles away from land. We're low on food. We're low on water. If you're lucky, I'll be dead by the next nightfall."

"I said stop it, Belladonna." Yang's eyes grew rather cold. "I do not wish to hear more."

"Well, I don't wish to be a burden. I don't wish for you to suffer as well, that is what I wish," Blake answered, with a noise caught somewhere between a growl and a rough chuckle. "You should have just allowed me to drown."

"I would have never done such a thing," she said calmly.

"That's right." Blake internally warmed at the comment. "Because you are such a noble pirate, Captain Xiao Long."

"I will get us to land," Yang claimed, evidently finding nothing humorous anymore. "I swear upon it on-"

"Your life, yes," Blake finished her words, staring at her with a breathless and disbelieving expression. "Why do you continue to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make promises that you can't keep?"

"Who says I won't keep them?" Yang asked, sounding heavily wounded. Blake suspected that she had been torn up about her lack of faith. But no- This wasn't about the level of trust. In fact, Blake trusted the pirate too much. She knew exactly what the pirate was capable of; and that was what worried her the most.

"Captain." Blake eventually dropped her smile as well. "Please."

"It's the only thing I can do," Yang answered cautiously. She averted her gaze for a moment in shame. "If I don't have an oath to keep, a person to fight for, then I will have no reason to live."

Blake swallowed. "Then I have an important request to ask of you."

Yang narrowed her gaze contemplatively, but didn't inquire further.

"Promise me that you will live for yourself, and nobody else," asked Blake in an earnest imploration. "Promise me that, Captain."

"…I cannot."

"And why is that?" Blake almost broke, her mind barely sticking together through the fever. Amber eyes waned, her early worries creeping back into them.

"Because my life isn't worth fighting for," Yang said distantly, wearing a dangerously glassy-eyed expression. "Yours is."

Blake felt a hollow laugh escape from her chest.

"Do you understand what you're saying? You will die," she told her, scrounging up enough anger to show. "I will, most definitely, become the death of you, Captain."

"I don't care," Yang said quietly. "It doesn't matter."

Blake closed her mouth, any effective retort dying at the tunnel of her throat. Somehow, she knew this is how the conversation would end. If it must be so, then Blake had only one other alternative option. There was a voice resonating in the back of her mind, unlike the other one she fought with this morning. This one was not so much as a conversation, but a single word. A resolution. She was dazed by the answer it gave, nearly thunderstruck by the true sense it provided. But not afraid. No, not ever.

"It matters to  _me_. Because I would never forgive myself if you were to die at my hands," Blake whispered, the strength of her facade fading rapidly. "I didn't mean what I said before. Actually, if it were at all possible, I would have spent the rest of my life by your side, whether it be the life of a pirate or a fugitive."

Yang did nothing but stare at her, dumbfounded.

"I do remember you. I remember you, Captain," Blake confessed, not wanting to waste more of their precious time. "You were the one who gave me my name."

There was a fraction of concern in the pirate's eyes, as if she had already read the reasoning behind this admission. Blake felt silly, having taken so long to recognize the stare. She had grown up with it. She had been her dream, her childhood fantasy; her innocent youth.

"I heard you asking in the darkness, asking about why I changed my mind," Blake went on nonetheless. "To be honest, there was no special reason for the decision. I kept the name because it came to me like water. It… It felt natural. It felt right. Now, I realize, it was because it reminded me of hope. Your promise gave me hope. I was wrong to call you a m- murderer before... You never took anything away. All you ever gave me was life itself."

She paused for a second, catching air, overwhelmed by a tide of grievous sentiments. The only thing worse than death was the wait. An oncoming death, with time to spare. A time in which Blake could see the results of her past, allowing her to stand where she stood today. It was when she could see all the happiness that could have been hers if she were to stay, and how beautiful life became once it came to its unceremonious ending. She drank in the sight, with as much lucidity as she could possibly hold until she lost it all.

"You promised that you would return to me, and you did," Blake murmured, her face crumbling at the memory. "Not once, but numerous times before. I'm sorry I couldn't remember you until now. You… You and I… We're so different from how we used to be."

Her face fell, and her beauty drowned, being swallowed by a sea of sadness. Blake fought hard not to look away, knowing that this would be her last, and to lose even a small flicker of it would be another action to regret.

"You've already done as you said you would. There's no need to do more. I am no longer your battle to fight for."

There was a look of exhaustion on Yang's face, taking away from her, inch by inch every day, and it sickened her, its sight made Blake ill with guilt.

They must be running out of rations. There were never plenty enough, to begin with. The pirate, though confident, was always reckless and hasty. There was no trace of land nearby, nor did the captain seem to carry a map. A jolly boat was tiny and sharp, yet slower and harder to steer. There was no way for them to survive this together. There was no need for it at all. Without a load, an extra mouth to feed, the chances of survival doubled. Only one of them would have to be selfish enough to arrive at this conclusion.

"You must leave me." Though they shook, Blake made sure her words were loud and clear. "I'm… I'm not fit for travel any longer."

There was silence, a heavy silence.

"In my pocket… There is a knife..." Blake halted a moment and then slid her left hand towards her torso. She felt in her waist pocket; there was the familiar handle of a blade.

Yang did not move, frozen in her prior spot, like a still statue or a corpse. The only response she received was a twitch, the pupils of her company growing larger in latent realization.

"When we were younger, you once promised to grant me my freedom," Blake spoke, her voice barely audible. "Please. Do it now."

A sunburst of pain exploded in the pirate's face. All the blood drained out of her visage, and her lips grew blue, trembling in a kind of fear Blake never wished to see again. The pain struck her, searing her with a blade of heartbreaking anguish.

"No," Yang finally choked.

"Captain," Blake pleaded. "This is the only way."

"I can't!" Yang cried, in a quick, suppressed tone. "I- I will not!"

"If you are unwilling," Blake trembled, "then I will have to end this myself."

"No!"

The dagger slipped out of her hands, stripped away by Yang, who had gotten to her feet, standing up in a fit of rage and confusion. The boat shook with the movement, and the wind suddenly shifted, blowing against them with equal ferocity.

Yang heaved, clenching hard onto the blade with a look of the deepest loathing. Then, with her entire body, she threw it. The dagger flew a few meters, shimmering in the dark for a second, before plunking into the black waters.

"I will never allow that to happen," Yang repeated quietly, losing her momentum as she saw the knife drown, the ripples fading into rings of nothingness. "Never."

She moved away from her, choosing to sit down at the farthest opposite side of the boat. Her shoulders were shaking, but she made no sound. With her back turned, Yang said no more.

The boat creaked loudly, and the waves seemed to do nothing but crash and foam, like a torrent of utter indifference.

By the end of it, Blake felt worse than she possibly could. She knew better, but she closed her eyes nonetheless.


	5. Chapter 5

Funnily enough, it rained all night.

The weather acted as fickle as the ocean, deciding that there was a sudden need for more water. The change was always so abrupt and radical. Thick droplets pelted the surface of her bare skin. The sails did little to block the descending water, and Blake had left the pirate's jacket untouched on the bottom of the boat.

The last time Blake had seen Yang's face was the argument. From then on, Yang hardly moved from the bow of the boat, only allowing the other to catch short glimpses of her somber back.

The drizzle made a dull drumming sound around her. Now, its tune remained her only audible companion.

Tap, tap, tap...

Even the weather seemed to be hissing at her, discriminating her for her own faults. A shift in the wind switched the direction of the rain, soaking parts of her that had been preserving warmth.

Yet the wetness, nor the dryness, none of it mattered to her any longer. She sensed nothing, and Blake prayed that the numbness would last until the end. It would be nature's form of gracious anesthesia. She should be so lucky to experience it.

All she now perceived was the cold. The rising of every wave, the feeling of every chill washing over her like an airborne river. Even the sea, the rain, felt warmer than her. The air was damp, yet humid, like a silent suffocating layer. However, she lay there shivering, as if her entire body were defective. The effect of her wounds spread through her with perverse determination.

The rain grew stronger and the sea rougher as the night progressed. The ropes to the sails moved with a jerk, and the rocking of the boat became more pronounced and erratic.

Its motion forced her to drink; the rain tasted mostly pure, the salt quickly rinsed out by the scratchiness of her throat. She allowed her mind to wander, which turned out to be much more dangerous than she could have ever imagined. A minute at a time, her vision flickered, first to black, then to white, then to a clear blue universe, appearing so vast that it was close enough to touch.

In erratic flashes, her consciousness slipped, seeming to exit her body entirely, only to be sucked back in by a force of terrible tenacity. At one point, she could have sworn to have been floating, watching the ocean below churning, with the lifeboat carrying her soulless body.

Other times, she found herself in paradise, with images of vacant daydreams one would have on a gentle summer evening: a turquoise colored sea and a white, sandy beach, an entire forest of coconut trees, ripe with juicy fruits, and a blanket full of stars to cover them during the night.

Her mind wandered towards familiar faces. She wondered about the smallest, insignificant details. That man, with the lovely scones, would he have reached his doting family by now? Would Vasilias still be sleeping on the job, always one small step away from earning a lecture from-

Weiss. What of her? Suppose her only friend had received the message by now - that she would never return for that visit she so earnestly promised. Their last exchange, a bitter farewell, would be the two's final memory of each other. If she had known this, Blake would have acted differently. She would have engulfed the prideful woman in a grateful, comforting, apologetic, complicated embrace of emotions.

What sort of sea was this? It was a sea of fond memories. It was a sea of regrets. Blake could only register this as a wholesomely new discovery, the strangest voyage she had ever encountered so far.

Blake kept her ears leveled to the ocean surface. The wood hardly felt existent anymore; if anything, the barrier had long since disappeared, and she moved fluidly with the waters. She listened to every drip, every fizz, and every bubble.

From a close distance, she could hear a loud splashing of water.

Blake wondered if it had been a whale. There was a slight rocking of the boat from the rolling ripples, and then another long period of silence.

"Captain?" Blake wasn't sure why she called for her, but she did it out of primitive instinct. It was quiet, too quiet, and Blake swallowed a thick mixture of saliva and remorse. She had set this upon herself, yet the burden of it grew unimaginably heavy.

"Captain Xiao Long?" she tried again when there was no answer. Perhaps she hadn't been loud enough. A sudden sickening feeling formed at the back of her throat.

Her brain screamed in uncontrollable panic. She didn't notice that she had been holding her breath, waiting in tense suspension for a response. There was no doubt, Yang was always extreme in her ways. Infamous for it, Blake might add. After all, she jumped off a ship to save her ungrateful life. What if... What if the splash had been nearer than she thought? What if the pirate had been telling the truth, that a life absent of purpose meant that it wasn't a life worth living at all?

"…Yang?" Blake gasped, releasing the name like an urgent letter, like a canary into the dark depths of the cave.

Her hands stumbled forth, grappling onto the ridges of the boat, attempting to lift her weight so that she could see past the sun. Something- Anything-

"I'm here."

An answer came to her, weak and weary, but it was there nonetheless. Blake struggled to raise her chin, not realizing how badly she needed the confirmation, the affirmation that she wasn't a mirage, that she hadn't been tricked by some desperate hallucination. Her breaths were cut short as the boat again shifted, echoing the motion of dismal thumps.

A figure emerged like an eclipse, filling her whole vision.

"Stop moving," came an order, strong yet gentle like before.

"I thought you left." Blake panted, feeling her body ease back in pain.

"Leave you?" Yang chuckled to herself. "I've only just found you again."

Her laugh sounded hollow. She appeared so tired.

"I'm not going anywhere," Yang assured her though, refusing to seem fragile. Blake dared to look past it. She could see the redness in Yang's eyes, reflecting a range of dull distress.

"Are you angry with me?" Blake asked quietly.

"No," Yang said, almost too quickly.

"…But you were?"

The following question took a while longer.

"Maybe," replied Yang, almost wishing that it could be forgotten as a distant memory.

"I'm sorry for asking you to do such a thing," Blake muttered. Her lips parted for an explanation that she wasn't entirely sure of how to give. "It was wrong of me."

"It's fine." Yang shook her head. "I understand why you did it."

The pirate sat down on a loose plank, drawing closer with an unreadable expression. It took a moment to realize what Yang was doing. Her tanned hands had trailed downwards, slow, with a fearful hesitation.

It was hard to tell, not until Yang touched her, that the pirate was trembling. The dressings around her lifted for another brief second.

This time, Blake did not grimace.

"Your wounds have festered," said Yang after a long pause. "I'm sorry to have kept you suffering for so long."

"You speak as if it's your fault." Blake's lips folded into a weak smirk.

"I can't help but think that it is," mumbled the pirate.

"Well, I'd hate to waste another second telling you how..." Blake winced as she struggled to sit up. "How ridiculous you sound. You know better than that."

"Do I?"

"It's not your fault," Blake told her adamantly, pained amusement painting the lines of her face. "How can it be, after everything you've done for me? You are the most selfless human being I have ever had the fortune of meeting."

"Selfless?" Yang coughed up a feeble laugh, her eyes narrowing into darkened slits. "I saved your life for no other reasons but my own."

Yang seemed confused by her own words, as if she struggled to remember why it had to be so. "You were like a dream to me, Blake," she attempted to explain. "Like the distant horizon of the ocean, like the very edge of the world. A treasure I'd like to claim one day, but a treasure that would never truly be mine."

Suddenly the sea felt far away, hushed, the noise distant, a meaningless hum, compared to this confession, and all Blake clung onto were Yang's words.

"I did everything to save you, to have you," she said, sounding peculiarly apologetic, "and once I finally caught you, I didn't know what to do with myself. I started this journey with childish dreams and hopes, and at the thought of losing you, I lashed out like a child. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want for  _you_  to think about it."

A cloud of uncertainty came over Yang's face. "I've been anything but selfless, Belladonna. I'm a pirate, for god's sake. I live to serve myself. I live to serve my greed, to preach my values to others."

"What are you saying?" she asked, in the same low voice.

"You're nothing but a prize, Blake." Yang paled, her mouth hanging dry. "That is all."

Blake paused again, staring at her, more deliberately than before. "You're a terrible liar, Captain."

"Actually," Yang almost appeared half-amused, "I've been told that I have a great knack for dishonesty."

"Is that so?" Blake let out a small, disbelieving laugh. "Well, apparently you're not so clever when it comes to things that matter."

"Can't you just play the damn fool for once?" Yang grumbled. "Must you always walk all over my head like that?"

"I insist that you tell me the truth, Captain," Blake whispered. "We are not children anymore. I'm sure that I can handle it."

There was more here than what the pirate wished for her to perceive. And for once in her life, Blake refused to be passive. Yang stared at her, uncomprehending at first, then, actually looked a bit crestfallen as she spoke in turn.

"I have feelings for you," she said in a soft, gingerly manner. " _That_ is what I'm trying to say. I saved you because I desire you, and I don't want any of my actions, any of what I did in the past, to be hailed as an act of compassion or an act of selflessness. Because they weren't. They can hardly be qualified as something so noble and pure."

"No," Blake said, feeling warmer as she finally understood. "It was for love... Arguably the most selfish act in the world, I suppose."

"Exactly," Yang confirmed, in a tone that cut the other off. "But now… If I may, I will grant you this one last favor."

There was a heavy thump, as Yang moved her thick boots. She opened up a strap of her clothes, reaching into a pocket of her waist satchel. The suspense of its reveal was short. The pirate pulled the object out without a moment of delay.

"I will- I will help you leave this world in peace- without suffering-" Yang seemed to shudder involuntarily. "Because that is what I hope for this to be, an act of mercy. A deliverance from pain."

"Is that…?" The question never finished. It was needless to ask what it was. It appeared before them in a flash: a small double barrel pistol with a silver rim. Blake swallowed with difficulty, her saliva feeling like bullets inside her raspy throat. "Does it still carry a shot?"

"Yes." Yang paused, cradling the weapon in her hands. "Just one."

There was no need to consider if it were loaded or not. Knowing the pirate, Blake didn't require a second of thought.

"Ask me again, Belladonna," she heard, barely audible. "And I will do it."

Here was her chance of escape, and yet the closer it came, it felt lost and out of touch. It resembled nothing of hope, but only of herself at her worst.

Now, she understood the meaning of sacrifice. It wasn't the simple act of letting go, giving rather than receiving. No- It was the act of doing something completely tortuous, something one would never even imagine to do, not in all possible lifetimes, in neither life nor death.

What she had been asking for, for the pirate to leave her, hadn't been a true sacrifice. No, she had been a selfish, cold-blooded fool. If anything, she was blinded by her own greed; she wanted the pain to cease, and her calculations of Yang's well-being had been a meek justification at best.

Despite what she claimed, Yang had performed the most selfless act in the end, and whether or not she realized it did not matter.

If the pirate's feelings were genuine, and Blake had no trouble believing that they were so, then the act of pulling the trigger wouldn't be just brutish. It would be an execution. It would mean death. By promising the salvation of her life, Blake knew that the pirate was offering up her own for a life of eternal damnation. And this, yes, this was the ultimate sacrifice of all.

"No."

"…I'm sorry?" Yang didn't blink or move, apparently too confused to process Blake's newfound smile.

"I said no," she repeated quite firmly, keeping her headstrong, hoping not to break their shared gaze. "You saved my life, Captain. My life is no longer mine to throw away. It is yours to take and yours to keep."

She grinned defenselessly, with much effort, but without the taint of a doubt. "And if you ask me to, then I will do it as well. I will continue to fight for you until my very last breath."

"Can- Can you really do that?" Yang stumbled over her words, nearly mute. "Would you really do that for me?

"I will," answered Blake, in a surprisingly gentle way.

"Are you absolutely sure?" There was a short sob, a sound that Yang quickly swallowed, hiding it behind a cover of nervous laughter. "It wouldn't be too cruel of me to ask for such a thing?"

"Be selfish, Captain." Blake tried to act casual as her lips curled up in a solid, binding promise. "We all deserve to be once in a while."

She moved an immeasurable amount, the last of the distance between them evaporating in an instant. She reached out, doing just enough to touch Yang's knuckles. Her grip relaxed immediately, and the pistol slipped out from underneath her pale fingers. With difficulty, Blake took it from her; it was heavy, much heavier than expected, but Blake carried it into her hands instead, knowing that it was her turn to share the burden.

Blake thought there was an explosion. But she couldn't be sure, not with her focus facing such a troublesome imbalance. All she had done was pull the trigger. And the machinery did the rest; the spark fizzed, the main charge burned through the vent, and the pistol fired out its last crack. Its ring was hollow, the powder and the ball of metal never reaching a solid destination. It must have landed somewhere in the waters, ambitious, but not enough to reach the skies.

The pirate accepted the emptied gun, and the two felt the air grow a little lighter.

"Together then," Yang told her, pressing her lips onto hers like a careful remedy. "I will be with you, from now on, until eternity."

"Of course." Blake almost let loose a tear. "Thank you, Captain…"

"I have a name, you know," Yang requested, finally managing to act somewhat suave. "Would it kill you to ever use it?"

"Yang," she complied at once. "Thank you, Yang."

The pirate smiled, sending Blake a tender wave of heat. It was an innocent thought; she would die happily if she were to see that smile for a second time.

 

* * *

 

It was long before the silence began to scare her. Yang had never known true fear until now.

"Blake?" she asked, but all she heard was the soft cooing of the ocean.

"Blake?" Yang spoke again, in an urgent cry.

She did not open her eyes.

She did not wake.

"No." Yang sprang to her feet, quivering from head to toe.

The most frightful thoughts rushed through her veins, feeding frenzies into her brain. She violently forced them out, knowing that when loved ones were in question, the human mind was capable of inventing every sort of terrible madness.

Blake was pale, and it wasn't the sort of hue she enjoyed to see, not a smooth shade of milky white, like the foam in her rum, the skin of a newborn baby – it was an unhealthy absence of any lively color.

Yang felt her chest, searching for the weak pulse. She listened to her breathing: there it was, a staccato of respiration, which seemed to be on the verge of extinction. The pirate's heart, against all odds, both sank and rose. She rushed back onto the small board they shared, making sure her arms draped around the girl's torso. She pulled her head closer, allowing Blake's nose to nuzzle underneath her chin. Her heat would do it. She would use it to warm her back to life. Yet would it be enough to rouse her? Did she even have much left to offer? Yang shivered as well, and fastened her hold, keeping their bodies tightly in contact.

The pirate wished that she could cry, but she had wept so much of late that she found it difficult to shed another tear. Her eyes and mouth felt dry and crusty. With all the worry she had spent, the pirate hardly considered her own health to be a problem. Now, with no distractions, with only loneliness and the silence she despised so much, it grew increasingly harder to ignore.

"Is this truly the end for us?" Yang asked her, feeling suddenly hopeless. "If you can still hear me, please, let me know in any way you can."

There was not a sound in the wind.

"Live," she murmured sorrowfully. "That is all I ask from you. If you live, then I shall spend the rest of my life by your side."

From the misty confession, Yang let out a shaky, distorted laugh. The sea became rough, describing her chaotic insides.

"But if you must die," she whispered on, "die knowing that your life, your very existence, was my life's best part."

She felt a flutter of strength in their interlocked hands. The movement was confined to a tremor in the second and third finger, and then an occasional fluttering of eyelids. It was an undeniable answer. It was the gentle surety of Blake's touch that calmed her. It made her yearn for a love that she never knew to exist. Without knowing, she had found it within her, on a small island in the middle of nowhere. Years later, they had already transcended their youthful promises.

Their fever came and left. Now, it was time to rest in the cool shade it left behind. Yang knew that Blake had done her best, and though her battle continued like the restless sea, they were losing time. Yang squeezed Blake's hand in solemn reply. Instead of running again, they would greet it this time, like an old friend.

Would there be an eternity to wait for, hovering beyond them in the distance? Was that infinite truly there, real and permanent, peaceful, like it had been promised? If all souls were blessed to take rest there, then in theory, they could. It was the end of what once began, the start of all ends, and the end that would be found by everyone everywhere eventually, and even more quickly, if they were to try.

So, she would try hard for both of them. And she would pray, pray like she was innocent and ignorant, knowing that though her invocations had never been answered before, whoever it was who ruled the fates, whatever it was that existed up there in the stars, he or she, an entity or a myriad of starving ghosts, it would owe her this one final request. To allow their souls to be united after this.

With a suddenness emphasized by the silence that followed, the rain stopped. The sky cleared and the waves vanished with the clouds. Yang thought she heard a creaking sound from afar, but it was faint, and not a subject she was concerned about. She didn't wish to turn around, afraid that once she did, the other side of her would fade away to dust.

Great tidal waves rushed from behind. The sun was slowly darkened, and they were drifting into deeper shadows cast upon the sea. The noise grew louder and louder; Yang never imagined that death would be so disruptive and conspicuous. There was a deep rumble, signaling its mighty entrance.

When Yang had said all that she wanted to say, when she had spoken the unspoken desires of her heart, she heard it again.

She heard a familiar blare of the horn.

"Ahoy there!"

The pirate begged it to be real. Jolted by the solid voice, Yang turned around, and in an instant, her lilac eyes shot forward, bulging at the sight of an approaching craft. It had been like a mountain, growing discreetly and towering over them.

She gaped up at the fast-driven ship. There was a figure on top - a tall man standing on the nearest deck. He stared down at her, an out-of-place, jolly smile dancing upon his jubilant visage. The face of an old, merry friend.

"What..." Her words died, too shocked to be vocalized in sentences. "How?"

A surprise was only good when it was least expected, and by far, this had been the least prepared she's been in her entire life.

"You weren't forgetting about us now, were you?" Sun asked, grinning widely as he leaned over the board. "Captain Xiao Long?"

He paused for dramatic effect. With a flash of his hand, he threw off the cocked hat he wore, tossing it out into the air, landing it perfectly in front of her, a familiar silver medallion pinned to its sides: the mark of a fellow pirate. Yang nearly toppled over as her knees buckled.

"Really? Do I not even deserve a proper response?" He went on, ignoring her babble with an irritated snort. "I hope you know that we've been searching the whole ocean, looking for your sorry ass!"

"You're- You're here. You found us," Yang panted, face still tight with tension. Her grip on Blake grew avidly strong. "Where are the others? I need help! There's been a-"

"Hold on a second! What's this?" He stopped her, waving his two hands in mock horror. "Who's the other lady in your arms? Did you scuttle with another woman without telling me about it first? That's hardly a decent thing to do to your best mate!"

"She's dying, Sun!" She shouted up at him, and his smile immediately dropped. "I need help! Get help!"

Her hands shook, and she almost feared the worst, that she would drop Blake, and that this would be the end, when it should have been, so rightfully been their beautiful beginning.

"She's been shot! She's barely breathing. I don't know what, I-" Yang didn't even realize that she was still talking; her mouth turned like an uncontrollable gear, and the further she panicked, the harder she clutched onto the woman in her arms. "Tell me how to do it, and I would- I would… But I don't know what she needs… She needs a doctor. She needs help! Damn it, where are the others? I need a hand! I can't- I won't- I'm going to drop her. Please, I…"

There was a thud, and the boat shook slightly; she lowered her body, bending her knees as she went down, making sure that they would be safe and secure. A steady hand touched her shoulder, and only then did she vaguely remember her crew mate's visible presence.

"Give me a hand with her, please…" Yang choked. "She's dying…"

"Captain," Sun tried to console her. "Look at me, Captain."

"No." She shook her head stubbornly. "She needs help."

"I know." There was another blare of a horn, and the volume grew, with more voices floating in the air, yet all of it became lost around her ringing ears.

"I understand," Yang heard her friend again. "Let her go, Captain. I got her. I'll get her the help she needs. Believe me, as I am telling you the truth."

Her grip finally eased, realizing that she had been holding on for too long, shaking so much that the boat could be overturned. The muscles in her hand violently twitched, and within its short lapse, Sun managed to catch her mistake, supporting Blake's listless body with his own exposed arms.

"Be… Be gentle with her," Yang ordered, her mouth still thick and moist.

She could have taken his hand into making a forceful promise, but the pirate was too far gone to express strength. All she could do was utter one word: "Please."

 

* * *

 

When Yang awoke, she woke up to what she was finally doing.

To her great surprise, she was sitting, not standing. A rough blanket was draped around her shoulders. A cup of some warm and black substance was in her hands, the platter underneath it carried spots of numerous spills; she must have been holding it with unsteady hands.

The shock nullified over a course of several deeply-taken breaths. Yang remembered where she was now, noticing the familiar blandness of her room, the captain's chamber of her own prized vessel.

She wasn't alone. A figure stood by the door frame, leaning quietly in uninterrupted patience.

"So... Were you planning on telling me what happened or..." tried Sun, after pretending to have not been there for the past ten minutes. "Were you just going to sit there and stare blankly at the wall?"

"Neither, actually," Yang replied shortly, lowering her drink and setting it down on the small wooden table. "How did you manage to find me?"

"Well, when you told us you were running a quick errand and then disappeared for the entire evening, we figured something was wrong." Sun shrugged. "Besides, you know how fast word travels around in this town. There were a few wild rumors about a pirate. We heard she shot down a marine general and kidnapped a lieutenant of one of their ships."

"Did this story resemble something that I would do?"

"Yes." He seemed to think this as obvious. "It was a pretty unanimous vote."

"I see." Yang didn't know whether to be proud or insulted. "Well, despite what you may all think, let me make this perfectly clear: I did not kidnap her. I rescued her."

"But you did shoot the man?" She nodded slowly for emphasis. Sun mirrored the gesture in sullen approval. "Well, at least half of what I've heard is true."

He took a fortifying breath and opened his mouth with a much more worrisome expression.

"The woman that you brought in…" He began with uncertainty. "Velvet's cleaned her wounds and gave her some medicine to cope with the pain. We can't be too sure, but we're hoping she'll pull through the night. I mean- She has come this far, hasn't she? Proves how stubborn a person can be in death."

"I need to see her," Yang demanded at once, getting to her feet.

"No." His declination was strangely offbeat. "Not now. She's resting."

"I don't care," she countered in resistance. "I just need to see her, that's all."

"She's doing fine on her own, Yang," Sun said rather calmly. He stepping closer, standing between her and the only door in the room. "And right now, I cannot allow you to pass."

"What?" Yang's eyes widened, pondering if this was his bizarre form of a mutiny.

"Not unless you tell me what happened." Her friend made his demands perfectly clear, crossing his arms as he gave her his best attempt at sternness. "Until then, I will not move an inch from this spot."

Yang scowled, growling lowly in her throat as she sat back down in her chair, refusing to accept her losses.

At her reluctant reservation, Sun simply sighed, lowering his guard as he began his fruitless interrogation. "Now, I got a good, long look at this girl before I left."

She nodded hesitantly in return but was incapable of a bigger response.

"And?" She managed a single word.

Sun looked over at her, his face solemn and stony.

"She's quite pretty, wouldn't you agree?"

There was a short pause, and then there was an audible snap of tension.

"Sun," Yang breathed in, her eyes narrowing. "I swear to god, I will cut your throat."

"Come now!" He laughed, his smile wide and charmingly innocent. "I was only jesting for sport! There's no need to be so tense! Besides, you know I would never mess with your women, not after what you did to me the first time around. I've still got the scar to remind me."

"Good." She glared at him with mock contempt. "Keep talking like that and you'll get another one, right in between your trousers there."

Sun, in reply, promptly crossed his legs. "At least I'm not a shameless flirt like you," he muttered.

"I have to admit," agreed Yang. "It is quite a gift."

They exchanged another quick glance, and let out an air of laughter.

"I've missed making you angry." Sun hummed, wringing his hands together as he ignored the arts of subtlety. "But I wouldn't want to keep delaying the real issue at hand."

"There is no issue to deal with," Yang argued.

"Captain." He gave her that knowing look. "Come on."

"Fine, fine…" She threw her hands up in defeat, cursing herself for not having been a more intimidating leader. "Ask me your questions now, because I won't be answering them later."

"Good," Sun said, a determined edge creeping into his eyes. "Then you can start by answering this: What on earth could you have possibly been thinking?"

"I don't know," she defended herself, in a rather lame fashion. "I suppose I wasn't thinking."

"You never do."

"But you already know that."

"Fair enough," said Sun, scratching his head. "All right then, tell me this. Who exactly is this woman you keep sheltering under your wing?"

"It's hard to say," Yang murmured, staring out the cabin window, to an empty corridor. "What do the others think of her?"

"They think their captain's gone half-nutters," huffed Sun, "risking her life to save an enemy's."

"…And what do  _you_  think?"

"Well, I've known you longer than most." He passed her a wry grin. "To be honest, I've grown a bit bored of your habitual madness."

This was one of those dear moments, Yang smiled, when she remembered why she had appointed this man to be her first mate. His support was never quite so serious, but she always appreciated his open frankness.

"Do you remember that time when you got hopelessly drunk?" Sun asked. "Back then, you told me a story once."

Yang furrowed her eyes, not understanding where he would be going with this anecdote.

"It was about a beautiful woman who would often visit you in your dreams." He fished out a rather silly, teasing look.

"You always wore this vacant, dreamy expression when you spoke of her." Sun laughed, not bothering to try and recreate it. "You babbled on for a while, talking about her hair, and how the rum smells on the scent of her breath, not bothering to make any sense for my sake. Then finally, you passed out, with the world's strangest look on your face."

He frowned at the last, most important recollection. "It was like you were in pain, but you were happy about it."

"My god," Yang groaned, feeling mortified by the picture he was drawing. "Remind me never to go drinking ever again."

"Oh, yes. Because that would be the solution to everything, wouldn't it? To be abstinent?" Sun smirked. "No, Captain. I'm asking you a fair question. Tell me, is this woman the one you've been mentioning to me in secret? The one who haunts your happiest daydreams. The one from your not-so-mysterious past?"

Yang stared back at him, lips twitching. "I think you already know the answer to that."

He nodded. "Then I only have one question left to ask."

She didn't consent right away, and Sun seemed to decide that it would be kinder for him to say it again aloud.

"Yang," he addressed her once more, not as a simple bystander, not as a crew member, or a subordinate in war, but a friend, a truly concerned friend. "What are you planning on doing with this woman?"

There it was again. That question she had no clue of answering. Yang knew Sun to be stubborn, but not as stubborn as herself. If she were to tell him what needed to be said, that she was simply an irresponsible, reckless pirate in the purest of definitions, then Yang was sure he would be resigned to accepting her idiocy and would allow her to visit Blake as she wanted. Yet, even that answer felt inadequate. The best she could offer now was the hardened, jagged truth.

"This woman..." Yang started, after a long byte of silence. "She almost died by my hands."

This was, evidently, not the sort of answer Sun had been expecting.

"Um…" He looked at her, as if she had not grasped his intentions at all. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I offered to end her life," Yang explained quietly. "When the pain became too much."

"…Oh. A mercy shot." He nodded grimly in agreement. "I mean, it isn't that uncommon, with the kinds of lives we lead."

"I lied to her though," continued Yang, no longer caring who it was before her. The objective changed mid-conversation. She simply needed to get this secret out, to empty the weight off her chest. "She asked me how many bullets I carried."

"Two," she didn't wait for his response. "There were two shots left in my gun."

"What?" Sun frowned with incomprehension. "I don't understand what you're saying."

After pretending to ignore him for close to a minute, Yang finally raised her head and cleared her throat.

"I was planning on following her after she passed."

She needed to tell someone and to be given that face – that exact expression of undisguised horror and utter disbelief.

By seeing that, Yang would know. She would know that her feelings were true and very much real because committing to such an act would only be possible if one were to be completely, certifiably insane. Or, in love. The two came hand-in-hand, she had learned that lesson today. Love was the line between sanity and madness.

"You..." Sun was about to retort when there was an abrupt explosion of sound.

Thunderous noise that echoed from above. There was a clamor of rapid, frantic footsteps, and the two heard their names being called out by a pack of panic-stricken voices.

"What was that?" Sun asked sharply, jumping up in cold sweat.

Yang rose to her feet as well, recognizing that shrill, high-pitched alarm.

"We're under attack," she noted quietly. Her words rang a sense of hollowness into their ears.


	6. Chapter 6

They emerged to chaos.

The first thing to be noticed was the color white; a whole flock of it, scattered throughout the ship. A large vessel was anchored by their side, linking the two together by a line of landing planks. It harbored a single large flag, coated in mixtures of navy blue.

"An ambush," Yang growled as she pulled out her gun. She exchanged a brief look with Sun, who nodded in silence. They turned, with their backs facing each other. Sun began firing, the first round of many.

Her nose took in the smell of fresh blood. It ran alongside the saltiness of the sea. The boards of her deck were marked in crimson. There was the familiar waft of gunpowder, the strangled cries of enemies and allies alike, thuds and thumps sweeping through the serenity of the splashing waves.

It was a losing battle. They were grossly outnumbered. Yang shouted around her surroundings, commanding her comrades to be brave until the very end.

Her pistol let out a cloud of fumes. A man went down, sprawling across the floor in a sickeningly limp fashion. A brunette woman caught Yang's attention from her right, sneaking above the sails. There was a loud bang. A shot fired, hitting the ground a foot away from the pirate's boots.

Yang pivoted to her left, ready to return the favor. The girl was a clear target, her full torso exposed. She froze at gunpoint, her body becoming rigid and small.

There was a great deal of fear in her eyes. The sun was setting from behind, sinking in a yellow-orange hue. For some reason, her figure shone in the color of amber. Before Yang could have the sense to be wise, the grip on her weapon slackened.

Her enemy, however, did not wait.

"What are you doing?" Sun roared at her, tackling her down as a shot narrowly missed her cheek.

Yang unhinged her mouth, prepared to open with an excuse when she felt his weight be pried off of her. There was a cry of pain, and Sun was gone from her side.

"Drop your weapons," came an unkind, high-pitched voice. It was followed with the clean sound of a sword, scratching against the solid surface of a sheath.

"Do it now," repeated the woman, and the blade was lowered, probing dangerously through her collar.

Turning, slowly as she did so, Yang faced her foe. Her flintlock made a sad clang as it dropped out of her palm.

A young woman stood in front of her sight, her appearance maintaining a tight, kept manner.

"Bind them," she said, and with her third order, the pirates were brought down on their knees, with knives and guns aimed at their heads. Yang resisted fiercely, even as a huddle of men kept her immobilized, tightening the straps around her wrists.

Yang seethed in anger. She remembered that face, and that silky brush of white hair matching the uniform she wore. Those infuriatingly piercing blue eyes, staring at her in some sort of rich defiance, like she was some patron of justice.

"You seem familiar." Yang smirked, scrunching up her face in fake recollection. "Have we met?"

She had one last weapon at her disposal: her tongue.

"Do you think it wise to be making jokes?" The woman stared vindictively at her, the edge of her blade directed towards her heart. "I wouldn't act so high and mighty if I were you, Xiao Long."

"It's  _Captain_  Xiao Long," Yang pointed out sharply. "And I think I'm much more suited to that position than you are, Schnee."

"Are you now?" she replied. And in seconds, Weiss had drawn her pistol. It was embroidered in gold and silver, shining under the rays of daylight. She fired without a moment of hesitation, it turned outwards and fired.

There was a deafening bang, and in horror, Yang watched as Sun sank a little to the floorboard. His lips were clamped shut, in the realization of his sudden mortal peril. The bullet had been close, flying a mere inch away from the top of his head. It hit the mast behind him, leaving a hollow black hole.

"Well, what kind of a captain would stand by and watch one of her men die?" Weiss asked, in a tone that was taunting and scornful. "His head would look fine among the gallows, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'll be flying your head as my banner before that happens," Yang snarled.

"You're not very bright, are you?" The girl's eyes ran icy cold. "As I have said before, I would do much more than cooperate with me, pirate."

There was no method of argument left. If she were to speak, another bullet would be fired. And despite her confidence for warfare, even Yang knew better than to provoke her enemy's anger.

Sun stared at her, as if he were expecting her to defy the navy's commands again. There was a certain level of betrayal in his eyes, like he had almost been counting on her to be more reckless, as if his life didn't hang in the balance.

His brows were furrowed, his expression adamant and resolved to his death.

In the end, though, he was just another man. Sun had the tendency to play the tough role, posturing, puffing himself up to a greater size than he actually was. If it weren't for his reputation for exaggeration, Yang may have even believed him.

"What is it that you want?" She growled, making her choice as she turned away from her friend.

"Take me below the deck," Weiss demanded, with an unwavering glare. She looked behind her shoulder as a second thought, addressing the line of her remaining soldiers. "The rest of you, stay here and only disturb me if you have important news to report."

She cast another glance to her right side. Then, with a bit of a shrug, she added: "Vasilias, you can come with me."

Neptune seemed particularly happy with this decision. Carrying an anticipative look, he stepped closer to his captain's side.

"What are you planning?" Yang narrowed her eyes, refusing to bow as she was pushed towards the cramped stairway.

"That is no business of yours, pirate," the woman returned. "Lead the way in silence, unless you wish for me to start firing again."

They walked slowly, with difficulty and with much caution. Yang stumbled frequently, having a hard time keeping still and calm with her forelimbs strapped behind her back, hindered by a thick knot. She kept a close eye on Sun, knowing that she would never forgive herself if something were to happen to him as well. He was but a feet behind her, breathing heavily, tied and gagged.

Upon request, they traveled below the deck. Without an instant to consider otherwise, Yang directed them towards the gold, the small pile of wealth they had managed to claim from the kingdoms.

Weiss Schnee, however, seemed only moderately impressed. She peered around the treasure room, simply for a short moment, then pushed Yang out, shaking her head in vivid disgust and disappointment.

"I didn't ask to see where you kept your proof of thievery, pirate," she hissed.

"You didn't  _ask_  to see anything at all," Yang replied bitingly.

This earned her yet another bruise, being kicked in the stomach as she felt her windpipes groan. She kept herself from falling, bending her body with her back folded.

"Where do you keep the sick and injured?" Weiss made her next shrill demand.

The pain, for a moment, vanished, flying away at a much more miserable thought. Yang looked up, staring at her enemy's eyes with blunt shock and confusion.

There was no way the girl could have known, Yang thought frantically. But if she had been informed beforehand, then why? Why on earth would she ask to see-

Yang felt another rough kick, and she was sent down on both knees, wheezing air out of her lungs.

"Do not keep me waiting, pirate." A cold pair of hands hoisted her up by the arms. Again, the honed sword positioned itself between her head and her chest. Yang's mind raced, and her blood streamed through like a violent current. She walked down the halls of her own ship, like a thin plank to her imminent death.

Soon, they reached a bland door, situated at the end of their path. In sweat, Yang watched as her captor turned the knob.

The room was deadly quiet as usual, being engulfed by that same suffocating degree of silence. Only one patient lay on the white linen beds. Yang held her breath, realizing that this would be her first visit since their separation.

Blake Belladonna was lying straight on her back, respiring softly as the sheets above her rose and fell to a tender rhythm. Her sickly countenance had improved from before. Or in the light of Yang's hopes, perhaps this was the only way her eyes wished to perceive things.

Yang would have done anything for their reunion to be more private. She desired it so badly, to the point where she suddenly missed the small boat they shared on the sea. At least there, they had been alone. They had shared intimacy.

Now, it seemed as though they were being broken apart. Important as those experiences were, they were only memories, and memories were quite susceptible to change, especially to the fearful turmoil of her own mind.

With each step Weiss Schnee took, the feeling of dread grew even deeper.

"So, it was true," said the ice woman, her blue eyes widening. Her face was set in stone, yet she failed to hide the slight quiver in her voice. "She really was captured by you."

"I didn't capture her," Yang spat, hating the way the girl made her sound, like Blake had been kept here against her will. "I saved her- from one of  _your_  men, actually. Now, what kind of a captain would allow something like that to happen, I wonder?"

The blade to her throat suddenly grew very sharp, pointing down, sinking at least a centimeter into the bare linings of her neck. A trickle of blood petered out from the wound.

"Do not compare me to the likes of you," came another angry, indignant command. "Do not test my patience, pirate. I am a mere second away from spilling your blood."

As soon as the blade left her skin, the woman turned away, her ironclad stance loosening for only a short lapse of time. Her eyes crinkled, and there was an ever-so-slight tremble in her hands. Yang could see the vibrations from her sword.

"Stay back," Weiss stated, with a poor attempt at composure. "I wish to see her without your presence nearby."

A growl escaped from the back of her throat, but like a caged animal, Yang could do no more. She did nothing but watch as the foreign woman bent over Blake's figure, taking in her precious scent.

"I warned you that this would happen, didn't I?" Weiss seemed to be saying, whispering, almost blaming. "I tried to stop you from this fate. Why couldn't you just do as you were told?"

"She's no longer yours to own," Yang reminded her, not bothering to practice self-restraint. "She doesn't need to do as she's told."

"If she did, she wouldn't be lying here, half-dead," Weiss said brusquely, "with her life indebted to some murderous pirate."

This had been the breaking point.

At once, Yang reacted violently. Her body surged forward, kicking the girl's blade down, and rendering it useless by its guard. She didn't care for cuts or injuries. Her eyes were red, bloodshot with vexation.

"A life indebted to me would be far better than a life lived in chains." Yang smiled. It was an unpleasant, frightening kind, worn by a madman seconds before committing a heinous act.

For a moment, Weiss stepped backward, her body growing stiff and unprepared. Her free hand was already fumbling for another weapon, but Yang would finish this, long before the other had a supposed chance.

Clank.

She felt the cold, metal surface of a barrel. It pushed against the back of her head, subtle yet strong. A series of rough breathing followed.

"Enough," said a male tone. She peered over her shoulders, remembering the man's presence for the first time. Neptune's eyes were big, and a bit shook, but his face carried a glint of unbendable courage. "That was your last warning, miss pirate."

Miss Pirate, she bit back a laugh. How awfully polite of him.

His gun, in a strange way, calmed her down, rooting her to a different, but much more important matter. Yang stepped away from the blade. If she were to die, she would die knowing at least one thing.

"Are you going to take her away from me?" Yang asked, realizing quite soon that her voice had cracked mid-sentence.

Silence. A famishing silence.

Weiss fell quiet as well, her eyes growing wide, and the gears in her head turning with the rush of wishful thoughts.

Yang struggled against her binds, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable. A pinging migraine ran through her hairline.

"You can't," Yang argued, curling her hands to fists as she felt her chest tighten. "You can't take her. I won't allow it."

The pirate tugged viciously on her ropes, trying until she could feel no blood left in her arms.

"She'll be killed," she murmured, short and in a bitter tune. "She means the whole world to me, please."

Weiss stared at her. Yang stared back, this time, meeting the gaze without resistance. Their exchange, though brief, spoke for miles, because Yang would only plead for a life that wasn't hers. Even if it meant throwing away her pride, at the moment, only a single purpose was at her sight.

"You saved her life..." Weiss spoke in a sullen voice.

"Yes." Yang closed her eyes in painful remembrance. "I did."

Her foe fell silent again. Her bright blue orbs pierced through her, taking in her note of admission as something that carried so much more.

"Do you think you can do it a second time?" came a hushed question.

Lilac eyes snapped open, distrusting the function of their neighboring ears. Yang felt her pulse coursing through, temporarily deafening her senses with the sound. What did she ask of her? Yang stayed frozen on the spot, transfixed, dumbfounded, and not daring to believe what she was hearing.

"What?" Yang asked, as though she could not have heard properly.

"When you saved her, you must have known that there would be consequences to pay for. Now, pay for them with your life," Weiss declared, carrying on in an odd mixture of animosity and trust. "Make sure that she lives under your protection, no matter how high the costs may be."

"...Is this an order?"

"No," Weiss answered curtly, her tone turning particularly strong at this point. "This is a threat. And I'm sure you will hold your end of the bargain, pirate. If she dies, then your insignificant life will be shortened even further. Do I make myself clear?"

Yang gaped at her, her tongue finding no words to speak. There was a dull pang in her chest, making her uncertain of what she should be feeling.

That was probably the closest to a "yes" the woman was going to receive. Weiss understood this almost too well. Before Yang could even have a chance to retort with something clever, Weiss took back her sword, abruptly reaching her own civil conclusion.

"Good," she said, turning to reface her blue-haired partner. "Let us go. I have said all that needs to be said."

"I'm sorry?" Neptune's mouth fell open, eyes widening in genuine shock as the conversation progressed. "Are we letting them go?"

Weiss acted as though she didn't hear him, standing calmly as she met his troubled gaze.

"We can't do that, Captain," he argued with a strain, as if he were torn between what was wrong and right. "What are we supposed to tell the council?"

"We'll tell them of our defeat."

"Do you plan to keep this a secret?" His face grew even more alarmed at her intended nonchalance. "But what if they find out? The others will talk. I know she saved Blake's life, but what about your repute?"

"What of my reputation, Vasilias?" Weiss hardly seemed troubled by his reaction. In fact, she smirked at his excessive concern. "Let the men talk. Let us see how well their words will fare against mine."

She must have been quite sure of herself, and of her enabling status. This appeared to be a monumental decision for her, and Neptune, having realized this a minute later, began slipping back into a good-natured grin. The worry that had been flickering across his face, upon hearing this, was instantaneously replaced by a foolish smile.

"Whatever you say," he said, bobbing his head like a loyal pup, "Captain."

Weiss looked satisfied by his response, having needed to hear him say it as well. Then, with her defenses striking up again, she threw a stern glare over her shoulders.

"This isn't the last you shall see of me, pirate," she made a solemn warning towards Yang. "You have another day to live for what you have done."

Weiss breathed in, her voice growing a bit faint and light.

"You will not die today," she whispered. "No, today... Today, I leave you in peace and in gratitude."

Everyone in the room stayed silent. Sun quickly looked over at Yang. Yang glanced at Weiss, then at Blake, then back at Sun, then at Neptune. Neptune met her glance, then looked over at Weiss. Weiss, needless to say, stared at nobody else but Yang.

"What is she to you?" Yang had to ask before the woman left, the question has been a crucial thought since the beginning to the end. Even without the goodness of detail, the implication of who she was referring to was blatantly obvious.

There was a slow pause in her steps, and Weiss turned away from the door, her face seeming equally perplexed.

"Blake," Yang decided to clarify. "She's hardly someone you would hold dear to your heart?"

"How strange of you to say that," Weiss said sarcastically, "And here I was, under the deep impression that you fancied my former lieutenant."

"I mean to you, specifically." Yang fought to keep composed, biting down on her teeth until her gums started to go numb. "To someone of your status."

Her smirk left in a trice, losing to the last word Yang professed. Weiss glared at her, with contempt so vile that even she couldn't fully equal it.

But then, the anger dissipated, like an unavoidable instinct that the woman had managed to subdue.

"Our blood is just as red as yours," Weiss said grimly, "Remember that, Captain Xiao Long."

She turned again towards the door, leaving her audience in a state of thunderous confusion.

"Oh. And see to it that she- my  _friend_ ," Weiss rolled her eyes as she emphasized, "sees a proper doctor. I wouldn't trust the medical expertise of one of your men."

Her heels clanked up the wooden stairs. Her subordinate, the man with strikingly blue hair, hurried after her, staying close to her until the very last moment, allowing her to walk past the door frame as he lagged behind.

He paused, spending a minute of time to look at them again. The pistol had long since disappeared into the flaps of his pocket. He wore a long, tired smile, a demeanor of maturity that felt ill-suited for him.

"Thanks," he said, after a thoughtful silence.

For a while, they remained befuddled by his words. Then, he left before neither of them could respond.

Befriending a pirate, he seemed to mutter, what a twist of fate this was.

 

* * *

 

The air was thick and wet. There was the damp, fungal scent of dead bodies, the smell of poured guts. They heeded, listening to the gloomy sound of splashing bodies, the deceased being tossed overboard, returning to the colder depths of the sea.

Yang sat up in the dark, watching as her fellow men rested, some of them while standing, but most of them sitting dismally on their bums. At close range, their faces showed tension and dread.

"How many did we lose?"

Sun turned to face her question.

"Eight," he answered.

His statement sounded bleak and raw. His face was blank in the dusk. There was a swollen black bruise under his right eye. A similarly nasty cut was bleeding above his lips.

She didn't respond, knowing that there was no use of doing so. The dark was approaching fast now, and off to the far north, she could see silhouettes of a distant land.

"Curses," someone finally said. "One day, they'll all be in the depths of hell for this."

There was a murmur of agreement.

Then, like the crack of dawn, came a sudden fit of hoarse laughter. It was empty, resembling almost a ghostly moan resonating through a black lagoon.

They began to grin, rinsed in blood, but alive. They clapped each other on the back, making jokes about having risen from the dead, having once again escaped the near clutches of eternal damnation. They were alive. They enjoyed not being dead. They missed their lost comrades, but for another night, they would enjoy sleeping in their cots, relieved to be waiting for the next morning light.

"We'll take back what they took from us," Sun affirmed, flashing a determined grin. "Isn't that right, Captain?"

They all stared at her, eager to hear her side of the story, ready to be stirred by a speech of violent motivations. Yang opened her mouth in turn, already knowing that she would fail to deliver.

"I'm sorry."

It was the wrong thing to say - she knew it, the moment the words fell out of her mouth. Yet, even if she had a chance to mess with time, Yang knew she would have uttered the same apology.

Normally, what would she have said? They'll pay, yes, they would. They would be peeling their enemy's skin, tearing their tongues out, slitting their veins open, and sending them to the devil's realms.

Instead, what had she shown? Weakness. She had shown pity and signs of heartache. The crew gawked at her, as if she really had gone mad. Yang certainly felt that she was growing close.

Yang wished she could find some sort of great rage, but the emotion was absent, and she couldn't make it happen anyway. She was bitter, sure. For a while, she thought this was a feeling indistinguishable from anger. But it wasn't. No, it was more different than she hoped.

"Come on," Sun said, as he pulled her by the arm. "We weren't finished with our talk."

She didn't refuse him, not as he allowed her to escape from the crowd. He dragged her, stopping his fierce steps when they reached below the deck, closing the door behind them as they stood in the narrow halls of the ship.

"What do you think she meant?" Yang asked when they were alone. "When she talked about her blood being as red as ours?"

"I don't know. Quite frankly, I don't care," he retorted succinctly, keeping one hand on her shoulder, the other rubbing the side of his head. "This girl you keep coming back to- She's been nothing but trouble from the start. It's her fault you've been acting so strangely for the past few weeks. It's beginning to seriously concern me."

"What do you mean?" Her body ran cold, horrified that he had noticed the change.

"The real Yang Xiao Long wouldn't apologize! Not for one of her men who died for their cause." He halted his rant, his expression growing in slight suspicion. "Unless… Unless she no longer feels the same way as before."

"Of course I do! There's no need to doubt my words. I just- My head is spinning, Sun," Yang murmured, the color in her eyes growing dim and lost. "Blake doesn't belong here. She wouldn't want this life. When she last agreed to it, she had been ill and deprived of her choices. She couldn't have been sincere then, and I'm too afraid to ask her now when her mind is clear and lucid."

"If she won't join us…" Sun began cautiously. "Then the other choice would be for you to leave."

"I can't do that now, can I?" Yang laughed at the suggestion, having half-expected it, but half-wishing that it had never been spoken. "I can't give up on this after so many years of effort. Fighting is the only thing I know how to do!"

Yang paused, considering everything as she ransacked her poisoned mind.

"And if we don't fight for the common people, then who will?" She reasoned with herself. "We must fight to live, and if death is something we must face, then so be it. We'll die knowing that our lives held a purpose and that others brave enough will come and take our places at the sea."

There was a voice ringing inside her head, dreadfully loud in lingering disappointment. Nevertheless, Yang ignored it, keeping that dream buried and locked away.

"It's her decision," she said eventually, in both pains and in grief. "I will stick by the promise I made to her. I wish for nothing more than to always be by her side, but it has to be her choice. She must decide, now that she's safe to do what she wants…"

"Listen to yourself," Sun interrupted her resolution, his eyes hardening at her duplicity. "What did you just say? You claimed that you would want nothing more than to be standing by her side."

"Yes," Yang frowned, "That is what I said. But-"

"We both know what the heart wants," he stated in an ardent manner, and the pirates exchanged an impartial stare. "There is no other way. You must choose. This ship cannot be led by someone who is uncertain of her fate."

Yang could see that he was growing angry, or upset, or a little bit of both. It was easy to tell with Sun, as he was always such a sportive character. The realization, of course, did little to uplift her.

"I do have a different answer." She swallowed under the pressure. "I just don't know if it's the right one."

"Well, I'd suggest you sort out your priorities pretty quickly." Sun scoffed rather mockingly. "She'll be waking soon enough, and quite frankly, I think it's a bit too early in your relationship to be showing her this poor side of you."

"I know," she agreed for once. "I'm hopeless."

"You're not." Sun paused, before letting out an immensely deep sigh. "You're just tired. You've grown sick of fighting. I can see it in your eyes."

She clenched her jaw, ready to retort when Sun physically shushed her; his thick hand smashed over her moving lips.

"It's nothing to be ashamed about," he told her, sounding kind despite the force of his touch. "It's nothing to feel guilty over. You've always fought for the people you loved. At first, your sister. Then, your father. Then, for our fellow men."

"It was nothing," Yang replied, stubbornly breaking apart from her friend's hold.

He smiled appreciatively. "But now, you have found somebody else, someone you were willing to end your life for."

Sun's voice became light, yet it had reached that particular octave – his signature tone of rare sincerity. "You cannot just toss that aside. A man cannot open his eyes to the truth and then walk away from it as if it means nothing. It will be an act of regret you cannot undo."

"But this is where I belong," her voice softened as well, "All of you- You are my family. I cannot just abandon this ship."

"How presumptuous of you to say that." Sun threw her an innocently patronizing glance. "You wouldn't be abandoning us. We would be moving on without you."

Yang knew he had meant this to be a joke, but it hurt to hear it from him nonetheless.

"There's no need to look at me like that." He grinned at her, somewhat sadly. "Farewells don't always have to be done in tears. We would be parting ways, sure. Maybe temporarily, maybe even for forever. We can never know. That's the life of a pirate."

The ship gently creaked, lying over the foaming waves, which fell silent for their benefit.

"But wherever we may be," Sun shrugged, "whether we'd be far from home or not, at least we'd know that we are both at sea."

It was a profound statement, Yang realized. A warm dense fog settled over them, and they were joined by that incessant silence, preceded by the tumultuous rain. Except, this time the wind sounded almost patient with them this evening.

"So, go ahead and make your big decision," he said again, with a dignified expression. "It really doesn't matter what you choose. You will always be my biggest pain-in-the-ass, Captain Xiao Long."

She laughed at his confession. She had never been happier to be insulted. After everything they had been through, he would always try to understand, and with his words, she could feel herself drawing closer towards the truth.

"Thank you, Sun."

She wore her first savvy smile of the day. "And don't you ever tell anyone what I've shared with you today. Otherwise, I'll be using your blood to warm my rum."

"Oh, I wouldn't even dare!"

Sun paused, sinking in a long afterthought.

"At least, not while I'm sober," he added, with a confident nod. "I can promise you that."

 

* * *

 

In Blake's presence, Yang's fatigue seemed to finally wane. She felt fine, despite her stiff muscles, despite the discomfort of her body, prickling and throbbing at every part. She became less aware of how tired she was, having been deprived of proper sleep for so long.

Yang was quiet for a time as if counting a pulse. Then, she pulled out a stool, moving it close to the figure's bed as she let out a relieved sigh. She saw the color, slowly but surely, returning to Blake's cheeks. Soon, they would reach land, and everything would return to the way it was.

She found herself holding Blake's hand, like an automatic habit, or a force out of nature.

"I may be tired of fighting this war," Yang whispered to her, "but I will never grow tired of fighting for you."

The woman on the bed stirred. Otherwise, she showed no signs of having heard her.

"...Yang?" Blake finally woke a minute later, groggy and confused.

"Yes," said Yang, catching the girl's searching gaze. "It's me. How are you feeling?"

"Better," Blake murmured. She passed out again, then woke up and asked, "Where are we?"

Yang did not answer, finding it hard to say it in words. It was always difficult to separate what she wished with what seemed to have really happened.

"It's all right. You're safe now," she said instead. "Thank you for opening your eyes again."

"To be honest, I didn't think that I could," Blake whispered, her voice thick and drugged. Yang reared back a little, giving her the needed space to collect her thoughts.

"Weiss," said Blake, almost at once, to Yang's great surprise. "Was she here?"

"...Yes." Yang's lips curled into a frown that she could not hide. "How did you know that?"

"I thought I heard her." Blake shook her head hard to clear it. "Vaguely, from before."

"You were conscious for that, but not for what I said earlier?" Yang grumbled underneath her breath.

"I'm sorry…" Blake frowned, her brows creasing together in confusion. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Nothing. I said nothing," huffed Yang. "That woman seemed to have heard what happened. She only came to make sure you were alive and breathing. Although, I never imagined the two of you to have been such close..."

If at all possible, Yang would refuse to use the word "friends."

"...You sound mildly jealous, Captain."

"I am not!" She shouted her dissent, then immediately coughed, pretending as though she hadn't just overreacted. "I mean- You're not well, Blake. It's clear to me that you're still very tired from your wounds."

"Oh no, she's the jealous type," came a different voice from the door. "Don't even doubt that for a single second."

The two of them turned, watching as a third figure leaned by the threshold.

"Hello, I don't think we've met before," greeted Sun, waving an innocent hand as he walked on over. "Well, not while both of us were conscious anyway. You were a bit, um, a bit knocked out before."

"…Hello." A flash of recognition filled Blake's eyes. It seemed to frighten her, or startle her to say the very least.

"Yang, where are we?" She asked again, this time, with a heavier stance.

"Um… This is... We're-" Yang stammered. "We're on my ship."

"Your ship?" Blake repeated, with an air of quiet intensity. "But- How did we get here?"

Here came another opportune moment.

"Sun." Yang cleared her throat. "Could you excuse us for a moment?"

"Actually, I'd really rather just stay and watch."

"Sun," Yang said again, threateningly.

"Oh, fine." He gave in, sounding exasperated. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

"...Did he just wink at me?" Blake asked, her eyes marked with confusion as she watched the boy leave.

"Ignore him," Yang grunted. "I always do."

It was strangely awkward in the room. After a whirlwind of events and forced intimacy, maybe the next logical step was to say nothing at all. Regardless, Yang tried to do the opposite, attempting to break the tricky mood with any topics that came to mind.

"I think we're all in need of a vacation, don't you think?" She paused and tried a new angle. "The South… That's where you were hoping to head?"

"I wasn't actually planning on going somewhere," answered Blake, slowly as she remembered. "I just planned on leaving."

"Well," she mumbled back. "Having no plans is still a plan, after all."

"…I suppose so." Blake watched her, expecting more. "Yang, what is it? You look like you have something to say."

"Yes." Yang heaved in a breath. "I do."

It was time to be blunt.

"I don't know what's in store for me, Blake," she started, sounding more agitated and strained than she wished. "My life's never been easy. And with you, it's become twice as hard."

Blake's face seemed to pale a little.

"But I don't mean it in a bad way," Yang added quickly. "I would never regret meeting you. It's just… I'm trying to be honest with you."

"...And I'm prepared to listen," Blake said, whilst nodding. She wore a strange expression in response. Yang wished she was better at reading them.

"I've been doing things my way until now, and it's somehow earned me your trust." Yang grinned sadly. "That's all I ever asked for, really. Perhaps I shouldn't be too greedy."

Amber eyes blinked up at her, remaining in absolute reticence. Blake looked almost small, wrapped in a flurry of white blankets. Yang couldn't help but smile, laughing slightly as she stroked a section of her cheeks.

"Your life is not mine to keep- Do not say that it is," Yang admitted reluctantly. "I want this to be your decision, not a choice out of debt."

There was nothing to worry about, nothing at all, she told herself.

"I don't want to lose you," Yang breathed reverently, "but I don't want to force you to a life of war… I've talked this over with a good friend of mine. He thinks that it's time for me to depart. And though I hate to prove him right, I think he'd made a pretty decent captain in my stead."

Yang set her jaw, knowing she had only one chance to say this correctly.

"I've decided to leave," Yang announced with a shaky grin. "If it is all right with you, Blake, I'd like for you to come with me."

Blake gazed at her, appearing surprised as she studied Yang's face. Yang smiled hesitantly, not knowing how to take the silence. "I did promise to stay by your side, didn't I?"

There was no answer, nothing but a few rapid flutters of Blake's lashes. The air wrinkled between them, and Yang felt her heart shrink with each counted second. Her scrutinizing stare bothered her, opening the door for new doubts.

"You once told me that being a pirate was about freedom," Blake reminded her. Yang knitted her brows in a frown, having no idea where to start with that question. She didn't have to though, as Blake seemed keen on resuming her thoughts.

"When I first met you," Blake mused out loud, "I didn't know about life outside the kingdoms."

"I was born and raised as a slave, always told what to do and what to say, who to regard as enemies and whose side I should be on," she relayed in a gentle voice, so gentle that it was almost mournful. "Pirates were only thieves, murderers, and men who lost their sense of purpose in life."

"But I was wrong," Blake went on in an unfaltering manner. "You weren't like that at all. You fight to bring forth a change. You fight for not only yours but also for the freedom of others."

Yang listened, being rendered speechless at her words. Blake waited a minute, then raised her head, sitting up to match Yang's level of gaze.

"I've served the people you despise for so many years." She frowned. "I love Weiss. Regardless of what you may think, my loyalty to her is real."

Yang stopped breathing, unsure for a moment whether she had imagined the revelation.

"She offered me my freedom. She gave it, in the only way she knew how." Blake swallowed down the truth Yang wished to avoid. "I respect her and I will not fight her."

Yang clutched Blake's hand, squeezing it a bit tighter, annoyed by how the confession troubled her.

"Even so… I grew fond of a pirate on my enemy's ship," Blake continued tenderly, "I fell in love with her vulnerability, a part she refuses to share with anyone, the side of her she's too afraid to embrace because she's so terrified of being weak."

"I do hope you're talking about me now."

"How many attractive female pirates would I know?" Blake smiled, if that could even be called smiling, or just a minor quirk of her lips. Yang took it in, the gesture working to slowly unbend her own frown.

"I've always been weak," said Blake, though she sounded ironically strong. "But you were always there for me when I needed you the most."

"You were never weak." Yang grinned. "But you do seem to have a knack for trouble."

"Well, I'd like to think that it's my turn to help you," Blake replied, a golden glare in her eyes. "I don't want you to give up on everything you've ever worked for. This is your world. If you left it, then I wouldn't be leaving with the pirate I fell in love with."

Yang said nothing in response, feeling as though something had been resolved without her even knowing about it.

"This is my choice, Yang," Blake said with a force that startled her. "I wish for us to stay."

"We can't both get what we want," Yang said meekly.

"Even if that is true," Blake contended, "You're the one who taught me how to dream. Am I wrong to think that we can begin a better future here, here where we can finally be together?"

"Actually, I'd never dreamed that I'd be so lucky," Yang croaked, touched by her openness. "I used to think that this life- this ship was the only future I had."

"For the longest time, I thought of nothing more than anger and vengeance..." She shared, feeling suddenly spontaneous. "But those thoughts of hatred left me the moment I lay eyes upon you on that ship."

Yang remembered waking in the past, her head becoming absurdly clear when she became aware of her feeling's existence.

She remembered the day they were destined to meet, the memory as clear as a beam. She wondered how her life would be if a few things had gone differently, if she hadn't dragged her sister out of bed, if she hadn't been where she wasn't supposed to be that night, if she hadn't shared that half-eaten loaf of bread with another.

If everything had gone right, then in a way, nothing would have.

"You see, Blake, you've already saved me," Yang confessed, her tone charged with gratitude. "You've given me my purpose in life. You've forced me, challenged me to doubt myself in the best ways, and to always move on. Today, my life was even spared by an enemy's, something I would have never deemed possible back then."

She smiled fondly at the thought. "You've changed me for the better. I have no one else to thank for that but you, Blake. Thank-"

Her words ran off, Yang not daring to say more as Blake moved closer, pressing her warm lips onto her own. They tasted like life. It was light, neither crass nor rushed, with no silhouette of death.

"You talk too much," Blake scolded her, keeping only an inch away from another kiss. Yang conjured up a grin, feeling the burning sensation returning to her veins. She leaned forward, softly pushing Blake back to her pillow. Climbing onto the bed, Yang knocked over the stool, remembering to stay gentle as she towered on top.

"I thought you liked the sound of my voice," she replied, trapping Blake in between the gaps of her arms.

"I do." Blake gazed up at her, wearing that invigorating smirk. "Just not at this particular moment."

She lowered her body, watching as Blake closed her eyes and lips. But no, Yang grinned. She saved their third kiss for another time, engulfing Blake in her arms instead. Yang hugged her, wrapping the girl with her quavers, trembling in inexplicable relief. There was a gasp, but Blake took note of her sincerity soon enough, and a pair of warm hands locked around her waist in reply.

"Thank you," Yang finished, her eyes liquid with things left unsaid. "I'd like for us to stay as well."

"I am sure of it." Blake strengthened her hold. "This is where I belong."

 

* * *

 

That night, the pirates sang. In union, as they do, like they always do. It was a happy tune, almost mocking in how merry it was. Perhaps if one were to listen with careful ears, he would hear the shadows lurking underneath. It would be a song of hope and losses, of both ends and new beginnings. It would be a song of change.

The chanting grew louder, fiercer, as the morning came. The music - the noise - came from the ocean, big and blue in its sound.


End file.
